Just Beyond the Reach
by Aate
Summary: Thorin wishes to protect Bilbo, but Bilbo can take care of himself just fine, thank you very much. Bilbo/Thorin slash, AU in which none of our lovely dwarves die during the whole Smaug ordeal. The fic is currently being betad by wonderful NoteMyGrin. (Original fic title "Hiding, Hiding Under Your Nose")
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS: Bilbo/Thorin SLASH**

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Bilbo really did like Thorin. Some (mainly Bilbo himself) would even argue he liked his friend a tad _too much_ for anyone's good: He liked to look at Thorin, admire the way his body moved, cherish every little touch the two of them shared. Once Bilbo had even been bold enough to reach out and actually stroke Thorin's long hair. Thorin hadn't said anything about it, not then, nor since, but his eyes had darkened, as he had gazed at Bilbo and Bilbo could have sworn the king had leaned into the touch just the slightest bit, before Bilbo had lost his courage and withdrawn his hand.

Still, as much as Bilbo loved his friend, sometimes he found the dwarf king to be _utterly impossible_. Like now, when they were enjoying a perfectly lovely dinner with Fili, Kili and Balin, and, out of nowhere, Thorin decided to introduce Bilbo to a giant (of a dwarf) with blonde hair and a long beard; she was called Gladur and – if Bilbo understood Thorin's words correctly, which he, well, did – she was supposed to spend the rest of her life by Bilbo's side as his protector.

"No," Bilbo said, scandalized, pointing the king with a spoon and shaking his head, "Thorin, _no_. I'm sure she is a great warrior, but I really don't need – or want – a personal guard, thank you very much. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, as you should know by now."

"I'm not questioning your skills, halfling," Thorin said impatiently, "but now that I'm a king, there are those who would gladly try to use you against me. I am only preventing that from happening, as there is enough inconvenience with rebuilding the kingdom as it is."

That wasn't entirely true: Rebuilding of Erebor was going off very well. Every day there were more dwarves returning home, and Thorin was highly respected both as a king and as a dwarf among the returning dwarves. Bilbo knew that mining had already begun in some parts of the mountain and sometimes he thought he could hear distant echoes of pickaxes hitting stone. Even the palace itself looked a lot nicer now that it had been "cleaned and redecorated", and Bilbo found himself rather liking this new, more lively Erebor with its newly-crowned king. He did miss Bag End, sometimes painfully so, but, in all honesty, he was in no hurry to get back home just yet.

"My safe-keeping is not a duty of yours, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo still felt the need to point out.

A dark look passed over Thorin's face at his words.

"As long as you stay in my kingdom, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said, sticking a knife into his steak more violently than strictly necessary, "keeping you safe is my _right_."

As Bilbo watched, Thorin took a large bite out of the steak and proceeded to chew it. Bilbo scoffed and opened his mouth, but didn't quite manage to say anything, as a bowl full of steaks was pushed in front of his face.

"More meat?" Balin asked hurriedly, holding the bowl in front of Bilbo. "I think it would be wise of you to stuff your mouth full with food right about now, laddie, or at least before you say anything else."

Bilbo ignored the advice, crossing his arms and leaning back against his chair instead. Sighing, Balin put the bowl down onto the table, his gaze travelling nervously from Bilbo to Thorin and back again.

"I'm not even a member of your household," Bilbo said and Thorin halted his chewing. "Why haven't you appointed personal guards to Fili and Kili, for instance, but are now offering one for me? Surely your own kin are more likely to be used against you than I am."

"Yes, please, do get us involved," Fili mumbled, picking his liver casserole with a knife.

"Indeed," Kili agreed. "No better way to spent the evening than getting stuck in the middle of one of uncle and Bilbo's arguments..."

The brothers glanced at their uncle, but Thorin seemed to ignore both of them, dividing his attention between food and Bilbo instead. The king washed the piece of steak down with ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving Bilbo's face.

"Fili and Kili are their own guards," Thorin said gruffly, his brow furrowing, as if explaining things was beneath him. "They keep each other safe; I couldn't possibly offer them anything better."

"You don't need to offer anything to me, either," Bilbo sighed, taking a handkerchief and wiping the corners of his mouth with it. Momentarily, his thought flew into his pocket, around the golden ring he always kept hidden in there – his own personal secret...

"I already have everything I need," he added and dabbed his mouth with the handkerchief with as much sophistication as he could muster, as he knew his behaving overly sophisticated annoyed Thorin to no end.

As expected, Thorin traced the dabbing with his eyes, clenching the knife in his hand.

"Do not try my patience, hobbit," Thorin said gruffly. "I have shown you great leniency in the past, but should you keep provoking me, I will give in to my urges and shake you. Such a delicate being like you might have trouble taking it."

Bilbo couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the words. Still, he lifted his chin in defiance and eyed his friend over the table.

"To shake me, you'd have to catch me first," he challenged and ignored the way Fili, Kili and Balin slumped down on their seats as if trying to act invisible. "And that, my dear friend, is not easily done. Not easily done at all."

"Are all halflings like you?" Thorin inquired and Bilbo thought he heard a slight note of both curiosity and exasperation in the king's voice.

"I would think so," Bilbo admitted after careful consideration. "I'm quite an ordinary hobbit, average in most ways – or at least I used to be."

"I find that hard to believe. You must be one of a kind, Bilbo Baggins, even among your own kin."

Whether that was meant as a compliment was difficult to tell, but Bilbo decided to take it as such in any case.

"Likewise, Thorin Oakenshield," he said. "You are most unique as well."

Thorin gave him a dry smile.

"What a relief," Kili let out a breath and straightened his back. "For a moment there, I thought I'd had to cover my eyes, if I didn't want to watch something horrible happening."

"I, as well, thought I'd had to cover my eyes," Fili admitted, "in case something horrible was going to happen right here on the table. Or perhaps on the floor, or against a pillar."

The brothers met each other's gaze and snickered, only to freeze and fell silent immediately afterwards, as Thorin gave them an icy glare. Balin slumped further down towards the floor, taking a pie and a tankard of ale with him.

The blonde dwarf, Gladur, shifted her feet a bit, drawing Bilbo's attention to her. Bilbo sighed and rubbed his face, looking at Thorin through his spread fingers.

"I appreciate that you care for my well-being," he said sincerely and Thorin inclined his head to acknowledge the words, "but I'm a hobbit and we hobbits value our privacy. I won't have a personal guard, not now, nor ever. I'll look after myself."

"This matter has already been settled," Thorin said, his focus on his steak once more. "Gladur _will_ guard you, like it or not. She has sworn to protect you with her life. Such an oath is not easily given nor broken by any dwarf. You would do well to feel grateful and humble for I have granted you the honour of having a royal guard protecting you at all times. Many dwarves would give an eye for such an honour."

"Oh, you want my eye now, do you," Bilbo spluttered, because he was too stunned and exasperated over Thorin's shameless deeds to have anything better to say – how dared the king appoint Gladur to guard Bilbo for the rest of Bilbo's or hers life without even asking Bilbo first! It was one thing to care for a friend's safety and another to give him a living shadow.

By the time Thorin finally raised his gaze to look at Bilbo, Bilbo was shaking with anger.

"I'll show you!" Bilbo seethed, pointing his spoon yet again at Thorin who merely raised an eyebrow at his outburst. "I swear I'll show you, Thorin. I'll show you that I don't need anyone guarding me. I will spend the next seven days and nights in the two upper levels of Erebor – and, yet, none of your most observant dwarves will know I'm there. You try catching me, Thorin Oakenshield! You try that! Use your best warriors and still you won't find me. I'm hiding in your own palace and you cannot catch me, even if you'll try! I don't need you or your warriors to protect me – I, too, can be my own guard – you'll see!"

With that, Bilbo let the spoon drop onto the table and quickly stood up, ignoring the four stunned faces staring straight at him. He hurried into the hallway, passed by three busy dwarves and curled up between two large statues to get some shield from any curious looks. There, he then fished in his pocket for the Ring and slipped it onto his middle finger just as frowning Thorin marched into the hallway, his cape flowing ever so impressively behind him.

Thorin looked one way, then the other, his frown deepening, as he couldn't immediately locate Bilbo's whereabouts in the long, straight hallway. Bilbo, now invisible due to wearing the Ring, stood up quietly and tiptoed to stand next to his friend. Thorin glanced at his side, looking straight at Bilbo, but turned his head away almost as quickly, having apparently no idea his friend was so near to him.

As Thorin let out a quiet, exasperated huff and stepped by him, proceeding to march along the long hallway with quick, even strides, glancing behind every statue and pillar on his way, Bilbo couldn't help but smirk. He raised his hand to look at the Ring. It shone mysteriously in the torchlight, as if holding all the secrets of the Time itself. Bilbo admired it, smiling. What a useful magic ring, indeed!

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**So what do you think? Would you like to read another chapter? Let me know. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Let me just tell you that I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind response you have given me so far! I have never received such nice feedback for writing just one chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who gave me a review! It really meant a lot to me that you took the time to do that. It also made me write like a madman, because I wanted to give you an update as soon as possible. I hope that you like this chapter as well, even though it's a bit shorter than the first one.**

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For the next few hours, Thorin pretended he wasn't running around his palace looking for a hiding hobbit, while the said hobbit trailed silently after him the whole time. As they trod along the stairs and hallways – the dwarf first, the hobbit right behind the dwarf's cape – Bilbo could see his friend clenching and unclenching his fists, as if the king was only barely managing to hold his fury. Thorin's shoulders were tense, his strides becoming stiffer and more controlled by every passing moment. At times, Bilbo had to break into a run to keep up with the angry king.

Thorin's cape was actually of a beautiful shade of blue, Bilbo knew, but as he was wearing the Ring, everything looked grey and shadowy to him. It was the one drawback of his magic ring: the world seemed to loose colour, when the Ring was put on. Still, Bilbo didn't worry about that too much, as his sight always came back as soon as he took the Ring off. Besides, even though wearing the Ring made his eyesight worse, it actually appeared to sharpen his other senses. He could hear, for instance, Thorin muttering under his breath, even though the king was now walking several steps ahead of him.

"Foolish hobbit," Thorin was grumbling. "Such childish games..."

Bilbo smirked to himself and hurried his steps.

By the time they reached the "two upper levels", as the huge, circular market hall and the guarding level above it were called, Bilbo was panting from the exertion. If he hadn't been a hobbit and, thus, a master of being silent, even Oin with his poor hearing could have been able to locate him just by following the sound of his heavy breathing. Fortunately, Bilbo was, indeed, a hobbit. Had he so wished, he could have moved to stand right under Thorin's nose and the king still wouldn't have been able to hear – or see – him. Bilbo might have done that, too, if he hadn't been afraid that the smell of his sweat would have given his whereabouts away.

According to Kili, the circular market hall was used for relaxing. Now, studying the hall more closely by himself, Bilbo could easily observe that Kili hadn't been joking: Further away, a young dwarf could be seen reciting elvish poetry to his dozing audience (a method dwarves used whenever they had trouble sleeping; Bilbo had often read elvish poetry to Thorin, when the king couldn't sleep), while behind them many were singing and dancing and drinking and making an awful lot of noise. Near the entrance, there were many stands where one could get their beard and hair washed, cut and braided; some stands even had their own specialities, such as "untangling" and "balding prevention".

"Might I interest our brave, honourable king in flea removal?" asked a grey-haired dwarf boldly, blocking Thorin's way, as she suddenly appeared from behind her stand.

"If you'll do it to a hobbit," Thorin said with no humour in his voice.

"Certainly, my lord," the dwarf said, giving Thorin a deep bow. "And where might I find this... hobbit?"

"I'll bring him to you," Thorin promised gruffly, stepping by the dwarf, completely oblivious to the dark glare sent at his way by one certain hobbit who absolutely _did not have any fleas_, thank you very much.

Next to the "beard and hair care" stands, welcoming stalls offered pipes, axes, snuff, lovely sweets, potholders, sharpening stones, beard ribbons and many other things a dwarf might need or desire. To the great disappointment of the stalls' owners, Thorin passed by most of them without a second glance, invisible Bilbo right on his heels.

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin came to a sudden halt in front of a stall that was, apparently, specialized in parchments, quills, ink, books and maps.

Now, if there was one thing Bilbo was very much interested in, it had to be books and maps. Keeping that in mind, it was no wonder that he stared at the goods in awe, almost forgetting he was supposed to be invisible and hiding and not asking questions like, "Why didn't you tell me there is such a lovely stall in Erebor?" or "Is that Eleonor Ruthberry's _Weeping Hymns With Humming Trees_?" and "Can I loan some gold from you, Thorin?"

Bilbo managed to snap his mouth shut just as the questions were beginning to form on his lips. Even though he covered his mouth with both of his hands not to make any noise, an odd swallowing sound still managed to escape his throat, causing Thorin to cast an annoyed look at his direction. For a moment Bilbo froze, feeling certain that Thorin now knew he was there, but soon the king's attention was on the stall yet again and Bilbo could release the breath he had been holding.

"King Thorin," said the book stall's owner, a tiny dwarf with wide watery eyes and a long, shaggy beard. "It is truly an honour to be able to bow to you!"

True to his words, the dwarf proceeded to give Thorin such a deep bow his long nose actually seemed to touch the floor.

"Master Hudarf," Thorin greeted the dwarf, eyeing the bookcases warily; Bilbo thought he looked uncharacteristically awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin.

"I am in need of a book."

"Ah, of course," Hudarf said, licking his lips in a nervous fashion. "Might I inquire whether the book is needed for hitting someone in the head with or for falling asleep to?"

"For reading, actually," Thorin grumbled, sounding a bit embarrassed, and Hudarf turned abruptly away from the shelf full of elvish literature he had already been browsing through.

"Reading..." Hudarf repeated, appearing a bit lost. "Um, certainly, my lord. I must have books for that purpose somewhere, as well. What kind of a book Your Highness would like to... read?"

If Bilbo had thought Thorin had looked uncharacteristically awkward before, now the king looked nothing but awkward – Hudarf didn't seem to notice, occupied as he was with his own nervousness.

"Something rare," Thorin said eventually. "Something I don't already have in my possession. Something about... halflings, perhaps. A book about... hobbits."

Bilbo gaped at his friend. A book about _hobbits_? What would Thorin possibly need a book about hobbits for? If Thorin wanted to know something about hobbits – anything at all about hobbits, really – he could have just asked Bilbo. Thorin knew he could have just asked Bilbo, didn't he.

Didn't he?

Bilbo wrung his hands and looked worriedly at the available books. He had once read a book about hobbits by someone who wasn't a hobbit. It had been full of misconceptions and outright lies – the author had even claimed that hobbits ate each other! – not to mention that the lack of grammar had been very troubling, indeed. By reading such a book, Thorin would learn nothing but falsehood about hobbits.

"A book about hobbits," Hudarf repeated, looking puzzled. "I have never heard of hobbit stones before – what does a hobbit look like?"

"The appearance of the halfling does not concern you," Thorin snapped, straightening to his full height, looking suddenly powerful and most majestic and so, so beyond reach it made Bilbo's heart clench. "If you'll find the book I am looking for – a book about halflings, hobbits, the dwellers of a place called 'the Shire' – send it to my chambers and you shall be reasonably rewarded."

"Yes, my king," Hudarf hurried to say, even as Thorin was already turning away. "If a book about 'hobbits' exists in Erebor, I shall find it and bring it to you myself."

Thorin gave Hudarf a curt nod and began moving so quickly and abruptly that Bilbo didn't quite manage to step aside. Who knows, Thorin might have collided with Bilbo, possibly knocking the poor hobbit off his feet, hadn't the dwarf king suddenly frozen, mere inches away from his friend.

The fur of Thorin's cape tickled Bilbo's face and Bilbo _didn't dare breath_.

Thorin narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping the market hall. Then, to Bilbo's horror, Thorin actually _sniffed_ the air! As fast as he possibly could, Bilbo took a clumsy step backwards, then another and yet another, his eyes never leaving Thorin.

A slow, predatory smile formed on the king's lips.

"I can smell your presence, halfling," Thorin said in a low voice and Bilbo shivered, cursing sweating and Thorin's sense of smell.

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**I'm eagerly waiting to hear your thoughts, so... review? :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. Over 100 reviews! I never thought you'd like this story so much. I don't even know what to say! Apart from thank you, of course. Thank you for all the lovely, encouraging feedback you've given me! I'm trying my best not to disappointed you with the story. I was supposed to update this chapter yesterday already, but then I read it again and thought it was complete rubbish. And so I wrote this new version instead. :D I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**And thank you for mara ana and another, anonymous reviewer for letting me know that the sixth chapter of Karategal's "An Unexpected Addition" has some similarities with the first chapter of my story. I've talked about that with Karategal and we came to the conclusion that we simply thought quite alike. Her well-written, multi-chaptered story has little!Frodo in it, so if that's what you like, be sure to check "An Unexpected Addition" out.  
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**2013 - have a great year, everyone!  
**

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"Your scent is as familiar to me as the smell of split granite," the king mused, stepping closer to Bilbo, looking intent and dangerous like a predator on a prowl for its prey.

Bilbo's heart was suddenly pounding like a drummer dwarf in a frenzy of drumming. He felt his breath catching in his throat, unable to look away from the approaching king. The sight of Thorin prowling – prowling for _him_ – was... unanticipatedly exciting. Oh, how Bilbo wanted to, _yearned_ to get closer to Thorin. He wanted to unclasp the five silver clasps on Thorin's cape, push the soft wool off the broad shoulders, run his hands over the heaving chest. He wanted to be pulled closer and press his lips against the lovely neck; wanted to make Thorin _feel_ how much he loved him.

Which was very frustrating, as Bilbo was supposed to be running away from Thorin and _not_ be feeling drawn to him. It was all slightly embarrassing, really, and very unbecoming of a hobbit. He really did like his friend a tad _too much_.

"I know you are near, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin murmured, quietly enough not to draw attention of the other dwarves, but loudly enough for Bilbo to hear it – he might have been grumbling to himself, too, but Bilbo heard the words anyway due to the Ring. "Reveal yourself and end this childish game now, while I still might show you some mercy: I wouldn't shake you... not too hard, at least. Or perhaps I would, as you are tantalizing me on purpose."

That Bilbo certainly was, but if he wasn't going to start moving immediately, his quest would end sooner than planned, as Thorin was steadily approaching. With one last look at his friend, Bilbo twirled around, halting for just long enough to choose the most convenient direction, before he broke into a run.

"Oh, Bilbo," he heard soft, surprisingly amused and affectionate words following him, "you can certainly try."

Risking one glance behind his back, Bilbo saw that Thorin was jogging after him, the royal nose raised just the slightest bit, as the king followed him by sniffing the air. Suddenly annoyed, Bilbo pressed his lips tightly together and picked up his pace.

Weaving his way through the crowd, Bilbo tried to reach the area where dwarves were drinking and singing and dancing. Once there, he could cover his distinctive smell with ale, which, admittedly, wasn't the perfect solution, but was something, at least: Thorin wouldn't be able to smell him, not with all the similar odours floating around. Bilbo would need just a few tankards of ale and that would be it. He would just pour ale all over him and crouch down next to some snoring dwarf and Thorin could never find him.

The trouble was, Bilbo had been exhausted even before the chase had begun, while Thorin didn't show any signs of fatigue, even after looking for Bilbo for hours. It wasn't likely, Bilbo came to a conclusion, that he would outrun Thorin. Besides, the more Bilbo ran, the more he sweated, and the more he sweated, the stronger he smelt. And the stronger he smelt, the easier it was for Thorin to find him. If Bilbo didn't want to get caught mere _hours_ after _swearing_ that he didn't need protection, a workable escape plan of some kind was needed.

Fortunately, the crowd was slowing Thorin down, while Bilbo could easily thread his way, keeping his movements light as only a hobbit could. As they ran by weaponry stalls and stalls that sold garments and boots, bystanders became increasingly enthusiastic about their king. Soon Thorin was surrounded by dwarves who all wished to show him respect by giving him deep bows. Bilbo could hear many of them praising Thorin for "exercising among ordinary dwarves". Thorin was "setting up a good example to all", the dwarves said, and Bilbo managed to run a good ten yards, before Thorin finally excused himself, as he needed to "complete the exercise for it to have some... effect".

For a moment, it seemed that Thorin couldn't smell Bilbo any longer, as the king halted his movements and just looked around, a deep frown forming on his forehead. Then, just as Bilbo was about to let out a sigh of relief, the king smiled a small, secret smile, turned to Bilbo's direction and began to jog. Bilbo swore to himself and kept running.

A silver-plated stairway on his right, not that far away from him, suddenly caught Bilbo's attention. He had never seen the stairway before, but he had heard of it – several times, in detail, in fact. Gloin had told him – many, many times – about_ the Silent Stairway of the Guarding Level of Mazes_. It had been designed and built by Gloin's great great grandmother, Reduna Gloinevig, who had been an excellent "silverer", before she had met her unfortunate fate in the teeth of an elgadorf.

Bilbo remembered Gloin also telling him that the guarding level had been designed just in case an enemy managed to make its way into the higher levels of Erebor forcing dwarves into the defence. There were, according to Gloin, several hallways all of which were divided by strong doors with metal bars on them. Keys to the doors, Gloin had said, were always kept in the locks just in case the doors had to be promptly locked happened Erebor to come under attack.

A quick plan formed in Bilbo's mind: if he only managed to reach one of the metal doors, he could close it and lock it and thus prevent Thorin from chasing after him. The steep stairway didn't look overly welcoming at all, especially as Bilbo's legs were aching from all the walking and running, but, still, it was getting more likely by the moment that Thorin would catch him long before he had reached the drinking area. The guarding level with its locking doors just might offer him a better chance of escaping.

Altering his course swiftly, Bilbo bolted towards the stairway.

Thorin was catching up with him fast, and Bilbo began to worry that he wouldn't be able to reach the top of the stairway before the king would have his hands on him. To bide some time, Bilbo took a deep breath.

"Look, it's King Thorin!" he shouted a bit desperately, and – instead of trying to find the source of the voice – dwarves around him turned to look at their approaching king. "He certainly has earned our respect! We should all bow to him!"

"We should, indeed," the dwarves agreed and proceeded to gather around Thorin once more, bowing and stroking their beards in honour of their mighty king.

Unknowingly, the dwarves formed a wall between Bilbo and Thorin, and Bilbo was halfway up the stairway, before Thorin was on the move again.

Now Thorin could no longer actually smell Bilbo, but after just a moment of hesitation, the king made his way towards the stairway, apparently anticipating Bilbo's plan.

The guarding level was, indeed, a maze of sorts, Bilbo noted once he reached the top of the stairway. On the top of the stairway, there were several narrow hallways, all leading into different directions. Bilbo was quick to choose one arbitrarily, hoping that he would soon find a metal door with a lock and with a key_ in the lock_, so that he could lock himself and Thorin apart, drop down against a wall to rest and just _breathe_.

Panting, Bilbo hurried along the hallway. It curved to the right, so that the retreating dwarves would have the advantage of fighting with their right arm, while the enemy had to use their left arm. There were diamonds on the ceiling, here and there, and Bilbo knew every single one of them had been carefully put on its place: Gloin had explained that the diamonds reflected light – dwarves could easily either light or dim the hallway by twisting and turning the largest one of the diamonds, which Bilbo thought was very clever.

Still, he had no time to admire the skilfully made ceiling, as Thorin's quick footsteps were already echoing in the dim hallway.

"Bilbo!" Thorin was calling. "It is not yet safe enough for an unattended halfling to be wandering around these parts of Erebor! You're _unaware_ of the creatures that might be lurking around here. You need to stop running immediately and wait for me – I promise I'll take you back to safety."

The urgent, worried tone in his friend's voice made Bilbo hesitate for a moment, but, in the end, he didn't stop. Even if there were creatures in the guarding level, none of them could see him (and no creature under the mountain certainly could have Thorin's sense of smell). Besides, knowing Thorin, the king was probably just trying to fool Bilbo into stopping. Bilbo had _sworn_ he would show Thorin and he had every intention to do that.

As Bilbo rounded yet another corner, his heart leapt for joy at the sight that met him: there, not ten steps ahead of him was a black metal door and there, on the door, was a lock that had a key in it. The dreary door with its long, ominous bars reminded Bilbo of the dungeon doors he had caught a glimpse at when Kili had taken him to see the lower levels of Erebor. Still, triumphantly, Bilbo hurried through the door and turned to close it.

He managed to pull it closed just as Thorin appeared from around the curving corner. Hastily, Bilbo stretched his hand out between the bars and turned the key, locking the door to keep Thorin on the other side of the bars and, thus, himself out of Thorin's reach.

Thorin's eyes flickered to the turning key.

"Bilbo Baggins!" the king shouted. "Don't you _dare_ lock it!"

The door was already locked and Bilbo was quick to withdraw the hand holding the key. Thorin was standing by the door in a heartbeat, reaching blindly between the bars and grasping invisible Bilbo by the hair, yanking the hobbit painfully against the bars. Yelping in pain, Bilbo threw the key as far away as he possibly could, so that Thorin couldn't get his hands on it and open the door. The key hit the wall almost thirty steps ahead of them and dropped onto the ground with a clink, shining and glimmering in the diamond-reflected light.

"Foolish hobbit!" Thorin was saying, his hands groping for and finding Bilbo's shoulders, giving the hobbit a firm shake. "Make yourself visible! Let me look at you."

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**Review? :)**

**(I was trying to update this chapter after correcting some misspellings etc. and accidentally posted the corrected version as the fourth chapter. That's why some of you received an email saying there would be four chapters - my apologies! :/ )  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Fourth chapter. For real, this time. It's a bit longer as requested by keishinaruka.**

**Warnings: some violence  
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Bilbo tried to break free, but, if anything, the strong hands holding him merely tightened their grasp.

"Stop wriggling," Thorin grunted, giving Bilbo yet another shake, while glowering at the glimmering key. "And do whatever it is that you halflings do to return your visibility. It's terribly disconcerting to hold you when I can only see air instead of your dainty features."

"My features are not dainty," Bilbo argued vehemently, although he was mostly just relieved that Thorin thought him becoming invisible was something hobbits could do in general.

For some reason, Bilbo didn't want Thorin to know about the magic ring. It was _Bilbo's_ secret, after all. Not Thorin's, nor Gandalf's. _His_. His Ring. _Bilbo Baggins'_, and he wouldn't let anyone take it away from him. Not, at least, without a good reason and asking first, as was proper and polite.

Thorin was far from proper and polite: Bilbo's head still ached from the way it had been yanked against the metal bars.

"You..." Bilbo panted from all the running and struggling, "you _might_ have a hold of me now, Thorin Oakeanshield, but you're as... as _far_ away from catching me as that key is from this door."

Thorin scoffed, running his hands down Bilbo's arms to hold the struggling hobbit by the biceps.

"You certainly are heated like a hinge when it is being forged," the king mused, "and as annoying as an old hinge in dire need of lubricating. Once I have you on this side of the bars, Bilbo Baggins, I'm going to lift you onto my knee and do what is usually only done to little dwarflings when they don't know how to behave."

Bilbo felt himself blush furiously: even the thought about such thing was terribly humiliating.

Thorin gave a little start, when Bilbo poked him in the chest with his finger.

"You will not do anything of the like!" Bilbo forbad sternly. "I can understand how this situation may be annoying to you, but let me assure you that I'm not enjoying myself either. I'd much rather be reading some of those lovely books Hudarf had on his stall, but you're trying to be in command of _my life_ and I don't like that at all! It seems that actions are the only way to make you listen, as words seem to mean nothing to you."

Thorin grumbled, wrapping his arms around Bilbo and pulling the hobbit firmly against the bars.

They were standing chest to chest, only the cold bars keeping their warm bodies apart. The hand Bilbo had been poking Thorin with was now pressed flat against Thorin's chest, and Bilbo's fingers curled around the fur collar as if on their own accord. Thorin was keeping him in a tight, yet gentle embrace, his eyes black and sharp and so full of emotions that Bilbo couldn't quite look into them but neither could he look away.

"Let me look at you," Thorin asked, his breath warm against Bilbo's temple. "I wish to see you. Why are you still hiding, when I have already found you?"

"You'd think you won, if I became visible now."

"I do not consider this a competition, Bilbo Baggins. But it is, nevertheless, upsetting that I cannot see you when your scent is so strong, your presence so solid and your voice so clear."

Upsetting. Bilbo hadn't meant to upset Thorin, not really. He had only been trying to teach his friend a lesson about asking first and not doing things without permission. He had never meant to actually _upset_ Thorin.

Bilbo let go off the fur collar and raised his hand to touch the king's cheek. As he stroked the warm skin with gentle fingertips, Thorin let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, tightening his hold around Bilbo.

"You," Thorin said, "you are the reviving rain after drought and the first ray of sun after weeks of pouring rain. You are warmth during the winter and cooling wind during the summer. Do not say words mean nothing to me, when every word I say has such a deep meaning behind it."

"_Who_ is the dwarven king speaking _to_?"

Bilbo gave a start at the sudden voice coming from behind his back.

Thorin's eyes flew open and the king was unsheathing his Orcrist with one hand, his other hand still holding Bilbo close, before Bilbo had time to even try to turn around.

Experimentally, as if to see whether Thorin would actually let him move, Bilbo began to turn around. To his surprise, Thorin didn't resist his movement at all, even if the arm was still there around Bilbo's chest, holding him against the bars.

Bilbo came face to face with an insect, a _cricket_ that had managed to sneak up on them. The cricket stood proudly on its hind legs, its head tilted slightly, as it stared at Thorin with big black eyes. It was the size of a small pony and Bilbo swallowed hard, coming to the sudden realization that there was nothing between him and the giant cricket, except for Thorin's arm; he could only wish that the cricket was of a friendly spieces.

Orcrist was pushed between the bars and now there were two things between Bilbo and the cricket.

"It's poisonous. Don't let it notice you," Thorin whispered and Bilbo swallowed nervously, giving the arm holding him a quick squeeze to make Thorin know he had heard and understood the words.

"_Cursed_ King Thorin was talking to someone," the cricket was saying, its slimy palps moving with the creaky words, "but I see no-one but him. Is the mighty king losing his mind – like grandfather, like grandson?"

Bilbo felt Thorin tensing behind him and wished desperately that he could have said something reassuring. He settled for holding Thorin's arm tightly against his chest.

Everyone knew of _the Illness of Mind_ that ran in Thorin's family, the illness that had caused Thorin's grandfather, Thror to lose his mind to his riches, to the Heart of the Mountain. Nowadays, after everything, no-one dared to mention the Arkenstone out loud, and when Thorin sometimes told Bilbo about Thror, _the Illness of Mind_ was hardly ever mentioned. It was one of the things Thorin didn't like to talk about: Bilbo knew Thorin feared that he might yet suffer his grandfather's faith.

"If I ever lose my mind," Thorin sneered, "I _swear_ kamalas won't be here to see it. You can give your leader a warning from me: For too long have the crickets been allowed to live their worthless lives in the guarding level of Erebor. Their presence will soon end, one way or the other. Unlike my grandfather, I will give you a chance to leave, but if you refuse that chance, dwarves will attack and kill everyone they'll find."

Bilbo blinked. He had heard Fili and Kili talking about sharpening swords and making arrows, but he had assumed it had all been a precaution in case Erebor was attacked. Now, though, hearing Thorin's words, Bilbo wondered if he had been mistaken. He had seen new weapons being forged, hadn't he; had heard Thorin talking about tactics and "the right moment"; had listened, when Thorin had hummed songs about upcoming battles and great victories. Not once had Bilbo thought that dwarves were preparing for a battle! He had assumed that dwarves – now that they had their home back – would have lived the rest of their life in peace. Apparently, if Thorin was speaking the truth, Bilbo had been sadly mistaken.

Bilbo hold his breath when the cricket stepped closer.

"_Ugly dwarf king_," the cricket hissed and dropped onto its six legs, quivering its wings angrily. "You shall _die_ before any battles are fought. Once you're dead, I will tear your body in pieces and scatter the pieces around this hallway for your two little nephews to find."

The cricket leapt towards them then, and hadn't Thorin pushed Bilbo onto the ground, the slime the cricket split from its mouth would have hit Bilbo straight in the face. As it happened, none of the slime managed to hit Bilbo, as he hit the ground just as a horrible hissing sound could be heart. Bilbo twirled onto his back and saw that the slime was now running down Thorin's chest, corroding the fur collar on its way. The five silver clasps fell onto the floor, as Thorin tore the cape off, before the poisonous slime could reach his skin. The clasps were quickly followed by the cricket's head, as Thorin swung Orcrist, beheading the creature with one swift motion.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked as soon as the cricket was dead, his wild eyes raking the hallway. "Where are you? Were you hit by the slime?"

"N-no," Bilbo hurried to answer, making himself visible once more by taking the Ring off his finger.

Bilbo's world was immediately flooded with colour, even as his hearing and his sense of smell weakened. The cricket was of a sickly shade of green, he noted, as was the slime it had split. Slightly disoriented, Bilbo scrambled to his feet, slipping the Ring into his pocket, so that Thorin couldn't see it.

"Are you alright, Thorin?"

"I'll be fine," Thorin said, giving Bilbo a glare, "as soon as I'm shaking you _so hard_ you're _begging_ for mercy. Go get that key and be quick about it. We need to leave immediately. I was a fool to stay here for so long – I should have taken you away as soon as I reached you. I never thought the kamalas had become so bold as to come this near to the Silent Stairway..."

There were many questions Bilbo would have liked to ask – what were the kamalas, how many of them were there in the guarding level, where had they come from and why, was Thorin really going to attack the crickets if they didn't leave – but he wasn't as foolish as to not know that it was neither the time nor the place for such questions. Instead of asking anything, Bilbo hurried towards the glimmering key.

"Move already!" Thorin's angry voice followed him. "Are all hobbits as slow and infuriating as you?"

"I'm_ fast_," Bilbo gasped, because he was running as fast as he possibly could, "for a hobbit."

"Exactly," Thorin grumbled and didn't sound pleased at all.

Once Bilbo reached the key, he bent down to snatch it, clenching his fingers securely around the cool blade. He had just turned around to run back to Thorin, when he suddenly heard an odd rustling sound coming from behind the closest corner. It sounded like insects swarming around. It sounded like there were _at least ten crickets _approaching him.

With his heart in his throat, Bilbo bolted towards Thorin. Thorin seemed to have heard the rustle as well, as he was already holding Orcrist in a striking position, ready to attack anything hostile that came close enough to the bars for him to reach it.

"Disappear!" Thorin hissed loudly enough for anyone to hear. "Quickly, Bilbo! _Disappear_! Don't let them see you!"

Bilbo fumbled for his pocket, but never quite managed to get a hold of the Ring, as a heavy weight suddenly landed onto his back, knocking him painfully down onto the ground.

"Killed Albert," snarled the cricket standing on Bilbo's back, "they did, I can see. Dead is Albert. No brother anymore. They will pay. I hate them."

"I killed your slimy Albert," Thorin declared from his side of the bars. "And I dare you to fight me! The hobbit is here just as a bait. Your quarrel is not with him but with me."

"_We don't believe you_," hummed the crowd of crickets that was suddenly swarming around and on Bilbo. "_A strong feeling is making our antennae quiver. We can feel it in the air. We can feel it, we can feel it. We can feel love, King of Dwarves. Our antennae is never wrong. We feel it. We'll use their love to make them pay. We feel it._"

Great. It was just great.

Bilbo couldn't help but feel exasperated, even as he was also quite terrified: it was just as well that the giant crickets would tell Thorin how Bilbo felt about him.

Embarrassed and desperate, Bilbo raised his arm to throw the key to a roaring Thorin who was, from the sounds of it, doing his best to get through the solid bars by trying to break them with his bare hands. Had Gloin been there, he might have told Thorin that the bars were made of black diamonds, which meant that they were practically unbreakable. No dwarf – no _troll_ – could bend them, no matter how desperate they were.

The key dropped from Bilbo's hand, before he managed to throw it, when one of the crickets sank its palps into his arm. Screaming in pain, Bilbo struggled, holding his bleeding arm against his chest.

To make the matters worse, the crickets began to sing,

_We hate dwarves_

_and we hate their king._

_The only good dwarf_

_is an eaten dwarfling:_

_their flesh is soft_

_and they bleed when they die._

_We, lovely crickets,_

_live to make dwarves cry._

"I'm not a dwarfling!" Bilbo yelled. "I'm a hobbit - a Baggins of Bag End!"

He kicked the crickets, wriggled, tried to escape them, but he simply wasn't strong and quick enough. Soon the crickets had him in their hold, many holding his legs and arms, while one took a hold of his neck with its palps, not quite piercing the skin but making it clear it was a possibility, if Bilbo didn't stop struggling.

Bilbo did stop struggling, for the time being. He still had the Ring, didn't he. He would find a way to escape, wouldn't he.

As the crickets carried Bilbo away, Thorin's voice bellowed over the rustling sounds and the snapping of the palps,

"If I don't get my halfling back, none of you kamalas will live to see the next winter!"

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**Thank you for all the lovely reviews! They really keep me writing, so if you'd like to read more, feel free to motivate me by reviewing. :) Constructive criticism is appreciated as well, of course.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for your reviews! I've read them all very carefully and did my best to write this new chapter as soon as possible as a thank you. I really enjoy writing, although I'm a bit self-conscious about it (as many people are about their stories, I suppose), so it's nice to have someone telling me what they think. :)  
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**I have to go to school tomorrow, but I'll try to write another chapter later this week.  
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Bilbo had to admit that his plan to teach Thorin a lesson hadn't gone quite as expected.

On the other hand – Bilbo thought, as he shook his bleeding arm to drop more blood onto the ground – now he had an even better opportunity to show Thorin that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, even under the most difficult circumstances. He was already looking after himself by leaving a trail of blood drops behind, so that he would find the way back to the black door and wouldn't get lost in the Guarding Level of Mazes. Thorin should have been there to see how well Bilbo was looking after himself even in the palps of giant crickets!

By the time the giant crickets finally stopped their jumping and leaping and came to a halt inside a dark chamber – that wasn't, sadly, illuminated by any diamonds – Bilbo's arm was throbbing with pain. Still, he was determined to prove himself to Thorin, determined to prove that he didn't need anyone guarding him, to prove that he was able to take care of himself, no matter what certain dwarven kings thought.

Bilbo gave a start, when a hoarse, high-pitched voice suddenly spoke from the surrounding darkness.

"Have you brought me food?" the voice asked, and Bilbo could hear a sound of rocks hitting against each other. Flames flared in the middle of the dark chamber, as someone lighted a torch.

"_Yes, Master Dwarf_," the crickets hurried to answer. "_Or perhaps not: we know not. The ugly dwarf king killed Albert – Albert is dead, master – but the king was out of our reach, on the other side of the locked black door, and we couldn't attack him to avenge Albert. So we brought another creature instead, because he can be used to avenge our brother just as well: the ugly dwarf king cares for this creature – we could feel love with our antennae!_"

"Tie him up, then," said the same hoarse, high-pitched voice from the direction of the torch, and something cold and slimy was immediately wrapped around Bilbo.

Once Bilbo was properly bound with something red and strong and horrible-smelling, the torch moved closer. It took a moment for Bilbo's eyes to adjust to the new lighting, but once they did, he saw yet another cricket with big black eyes and, riding on that cricket, the thinnest dwarf Bilbo had ever seen in his life. To Bilbo's embarrassment, the dwarf wasn't wearing any clothes, _not one single garment_, and Bilbo could easily see his sticking bones even in the dim lighting.

Bilbo eyed the dwarf warily. The dwarf was hunched and very, _very_ dirty. He was bald but had a thin, unkempt beard that came down to his navel like a white bundle of cobweb. The dwarf's legs, from his toes all the way up to his thighs were wasted away, making his legs nothing but a pair of fragile, skin-covered bones that were hanging limply from his withered body (Bilbo refused to look the area between the dwarf's stomach and thighs, because that would have been simply _indecent_). If the cricket hadn't been carrying the dwarf on its back, the dwarf probably couldn't have been standing – let alone walking – at all.

When their gazes met, Bilbo saw that one of the dwarf's eyes was completely white and blind, while the other was sharp and intelligent, if also malicious and terrifyingly triumphant.

"Interesting," the thin dwarf hissed, moving the torch closer to Bilbo's face.

Judging from the way the crickets were showing the dwarf respect by lowering their antennae, Bilbo concluded that the dwarf was some kind of a leader to the crickets.

"You are not a dwarfling, but neither are you an elf, or a human, or even an orc. What are you, beardless one?"

"I'm a hobbit," Bilbo answered nervously and tugged at the lianas keeping him in place, wishing against all the wishes that the crickets couldn't feel his fear with their antennae. "Or a halfling, if you'd prefer. My name is Bilbo Baggins."

The dwarf snorted, eyeing Bilbo up and down with his one good eye.

"Too many names for such a worthless creature," the dwarf declared and Bilbo flushed, annoyed, because his names were perfectly fine and nice and there was just the right amount of them. "Even the dragon Smaug only had one name! Or, well, at least I've only ever heard of one. One doesn't hear much, when he lives in isolation."

Thankfully, the torch was withdrawn from Bilbo's face, as the dwarf turned to address the crickets.

Once no-one seemed to be paying any attention to him, Bilbo tried to reach for his pocket to get a hold of the Ring. Unfortunately, his plan didn't succeed, as his neck was once more between someone's palps the moment he tried to wriggle a bit to get a better access to his pocket.

"Bernhard and Pullomaha," the dwarf said hoarsely and the two crickets closest to the door moved to stand at the ready, waiting eagerly for further orders. "Go stand in the lookout near the place you last saw the dwarven prince. Come inform me, if and when the prince makes another appearance. He might have some kind of a weapon and other dwarves with him, so be careful not to get killed like Albert. Do _not_ talk to any of the dwarves, just come and tell me if they approach."

As Bilbo watched, the two crickets bowed to the dwarf and hurried out of the chamber, their antennae quivering enthusiastically as they went.

The two crickets had barely left, when the dwarf had turned his full attention to Bilbo once more.

"Why do you say the prince cares for this beardless... hobbit?"

"_We felt it in our antennae_," the crickets hurried to say, swarming around their leader. "_We felt love, wistful love! We felt it, we felt it. Our antennae is never wrong. We felt love. He loves him. We felt it, we felt it. Love._"

"Interesting," the dwarf said again, spurring his cricket closer to Bilbo.

Once he was close enough, the dwarf forced Bilbo's chin up with both of his fragile arms to study the hobbit's face more closely.

"The hobbit is lovely enough," the dwarf finally decided, "even though he doesn't have a beard. I believe the prince would be greatly insulted, if I were to enjoy the hobbit's flesh, while the hobbit is staying with us."

A chill ran down Bilbo's spine.

"You cannot eat me!" Bilbo said, struggling desperately, only to feel the slimy palps around his neck tightening their hold. "If you even try, _King_ Thorin will kill you – if I don't manage to do that first, that is."

"_Prince_ Thorin can do nothing to me," the dwarf said, smacking his dry lips with disdain. "He's just as worthless as you are. Nothing but a boy, really. The last time I saw him, his beard had barely begun to grow. If I can use you to hurt him, it will be my pleasure to do so. And if the prince doesn't care for you like my crickets claim... well, I can still enjoy you, just as well. Before we eat you, of course. We are growing hungry. There isn't much to eat around here anymore."

The dwarf looked sadly around the dead crickets that covered every inch of the chamber, while Bilbo fought a wave of nausea and terror.

"We are starving, aren't we, my crickets," the dwarf sighed and let go off Bilbo's face to Bilbo's relief. "I suppose we could make the prince bring us food in exchange for the hobbit's continuous existence. That way I could keep the lovely thing for longer and we would still have food to eat – Albert's death could always be repaid by food, I think."

"King Thorin can be dangerous to play with," Bilbo warned and the intelligent eye turned to look at him again. "N-nothing good will come out of it, if you'll m-make him a-angry. If you just l-let me g-go, he could s-still be r-reasoned with. I c-could t-talk with him myself."

Bilbo was stammering a bit, because several angry, glowing eyes had suddenly appeared to stare straight at him from the surrounding darkness. The grip the palps had around his neck was so tight, Bilbo could feel blood drops running down his chest. Apparently, the crickets didn't like it when he talked without being addressed first.

The dwarf didn't seem to mind, though, as he merely waved his hand. A pile of dead crickets let out a loud crunching sound, when Bilbo was dumped onto it. The overwhelming smell of rotting crickets, similar to that of rotting fish, made Bilbo's eyes water and he tried not to throw up.

"I was left behind when the dragon attacked," the dwarf said wistfully, looking nonchalantly at Bilbo's struggle. "I was but a boy back then, just years older than Prince Thorin. The kamalas found me and hid me from Smaug and brought me food, and so they became my new family, my _better_ family, the one that didn't abandon me."

Bilbo rolled to his side and then to his back, so that he didn't have to lie on top of the dead crickets on his stomach. Green wings and hollow cricket heads crushed under his weight with sickening cracks, and he couldn't help the wave of nausea that suddenly hit him. He heaved all over the dead crickets, the sound of dwarf's hoarse voice echoing in his ears.

"I didn't dare make any noise, so that the dragon wouldn't find out about my existence," the dwarf was saying. "The crickets, _those_ Smaug didn't mind – he didn't mind insects, not really. Fortunately, the smell of crickets covered my smell, bad as it was. As long as I didn't say anything or walk or make any sound at all, I was safe. I haven't taken a step in centuries by myself! But I bet I can still have movement in certain body parts of mine, when encouraged. I think we'll find out about that later, my lovely hobbit, once I've settled certain matters with the prince."

Bilbo had no intention of staying in the mercy of the dwarf and the crickets for that long. He would disappear when the first opportunity presented itself.

Just then, Pullomaha and Bernhard leapt into the chamber, their wings quivering furiously.

"The ugly dwarf king!" Pullomaha shouted. "He has arrived! Just like you said, Master Dwarf!"

"Already?" the dwarf asked, sounding surprised, his calculating gaze fixed on Bilbo.

"Yes, and he has an army with him!" Bernhard squeaked. "So many dwarves I couldn't even count them! And all of them hold weapons!"

"Interesting..." the dwarf mused. "It seems that we have a truly dangerous diamond in our midst, my dears. It seems that we have to be even more cautious than I originally thought. If your observations were correct and if I am right, as I usually am, Prince Thorin won't hesitate to injure any of us to get this hobbit back. We have to be very cautious, indeed. How interesting..."

The dwarf motioned for the crickets to lift Bilbo from the pile of dead crickets. Bilbo was immediately hoisted up and arranged between four crickets who all hold him a bit tighter than necessary in their slimy palps.

"Do you really have to carry me?" Bilbo said a bit alarmed, as the crickets began moving. "I'm a fast walker – for a hobbit, at least."

Bilbo _really_ didn't want to look so helpless in front of the dwarves – especially as he was supposed to be demonstrating how he _didn't need_ anyone's protection – but neither the dwarf of any of the crickets paid his objections any mind.

Bilbo was carried face down along the dimly lit hallways. His already dried blood drops looked small but clear on the ground, and Bilbo was convinced he could find his way back to the black door by following them, if need be. It was a cheerful thought, or at least more cheerful than most of Bilbo's thoughts currently were.

Then, for some time, there was little else he could do, but to watch as new blood drops found their way down onto the ground next to the dry ones. Bilbo sighed to himself: his arm was still bleeding.

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**Next chapter, there should be Thorin and other dwarves_._ **


	6. Chapter 6

**The first week of school! :D It's great to learn new things and see friends, though sometimes it would be just nicer to stay at home and do other stuff, like write fanfiction... Anyway, here's the sixth chapter. Sorry it took me so long to update!**

**Thank you for all the feedback! I _really_ appreciate it how you took the time to read my stories and review. :)**

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They were heading towards the black door, towards Thorin and his dwarves. The closer to the door they got, the quieter the crickets became. The snapping of their palps became more silent and Bilbo could barely hear the rustling of their feet. To him, it almost appeared like the crickets were tiptoeing, as if they were trying to catch the dwarves off guard.

Bilbo frowned, considering, and gave the ropes binding him yet another experimental tug.

"Can we eat whoever we kill?" one of the crickets asked in a hushed voice.

"_If_ we'll kill someone, then yes," the dwarf muttered from somewhere above Bilbo "Mind the prince and his nephews, though, my dears. Royalty with all their gems and jewels is never good for one's digestion... And when we come to the dwarves' line of sight, make sure that they can see the hobbit properly. Otherwise we might get regrettably closely acquainted with arrows and flying axes."

"_Yes, Master,_" the crickets whispered. "_Have to show the hobbit. Have to remember that. Show the hobbit, we will._"

"Let me walk the rest of the way," Bilbo tried, wriggling a bit.

The tightening of the palps was all the answer he got.

While the crickets became more silent with each leapt they make, the voices of the dwarves – Bilbo's friends – became louder and louder the nearer them they got. The dwarves sounded angry and decisive, and Bilbo thought he could discern words like "reach", "rod" and "key", which all made him conclude that the dwarves were trying to reach the key to the locked door with a rod of some kind. Thorin was grumbling, even though Bilbo couldn't make out the exact words, while Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin and several other dwarves could all be heard giving instructions, contradictory to each other, to whoever it was that was trying to reach the key with the rod.

Once Bilbo thought that they were close enough for the dwarves to hear him, he filled his lungs with air.

"THE CRICKETS ARE COMING!" he bellowed the warning as loudly as he possibly could, startling the unclothed dwarf into almost dropping off his cricket. "THE CRICKETS ARE-"

Bilbo's shout was cut off abruptly, when the crickets carrying him dropped him onto the hard ground. As his hands were tightly bound behind his back, Bilbo couldn't ease his fall, and so hit the ground left side first. He groaned in pain and tried to roll to his stomach, but couldn't, as there were several crickets holding him down, snapping at him with their palps.

"_Beardless_ creature," the dwarf spat out, as if being beardless was the worst insult the dwarf could possibly imagine. "Yell again and I'll tell one of my crickets to cut your tongue off!"

The threat wasn't necessary, not really, as Bilbo had no intention of shouting again: the dwarves had fallen silent as soon as he had given them the warning. Thorin and his warriors were probably already preparing to face the approaching crickets, which meant that Bilbo had no need to warn them again.

"Now they know we're coming," the dwarf came to the same conclusion. "How inconvenient. I had hoped we would've had the element of surprise on our side. Still, it doesn't really matter, as we still have you, the lovely diamond. How much do you think the prince is ready to pay to have you back, hobbit?"

Bilbo didn't answer, but it seemed that the dwarf wasn't really waiting for an answer anyway, as he gave his crickets a curt nod and Bilbo was once again picked up from the ground.

For a while, the crickets just kept leaping forward, carrying Bilbo and their unclothed leader. The Guarding Level of Mazes was really living up to its name, and Bilbo was just wondering how many dwarves had gotten lost in its narrow, branching hallways during the years they had been built, when the crickets came to a sudden halt.

A bit startled, Bilbo tried to peer past the cricket standing in front of him, but in vain: he couldn't see anything but the backside of the giant cricket.

"The dwarves are waiting around the corner, Master," the cricket called Pullamaha squeaked, barely containing its excitement.

"_We can feel anger_," the other crickets added. "_Anger. Anger towards us and fear, fear for the hobbit._"

"Good," the Master of the crickets muttered, licking his lips. "Let the hobbit down, gently. He will round the corner before us, so that the dwarves know not to shoot."

The words had barely left the dwarf's chapped lips, when Bilbo could once more feel steady, solid ground under his feet. Bilbo might have tried to break for a run, then, hadn't the dwarf grabbed him by the hair, halting his steps.

"Don't try anything foolish, hobbit," the dwarf whispered, leaning downwards. "We are right behind you: if you try anything, you'll die. The prince probably wants my crickets dead anyway, so I might just take you with us. I have _nothing_ to loose."

Bilbo raised his chin in defiance, but didn't saying anything, as he didn't want to show the dwarf how scared he actually was: Bilbo just knew his voice would have trembled if he had tried to say something.

The dwarf gave Bilbo a long look, but let go off Bilbo's hair and straightened his hunched back as much as it simply was possible.

"Move, then," the dwarf gave the command and Bilbo stepped obediently forward, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He did his best to ignore the huge staring eyes and the slimy palps, as he passed by them, focusing instead on the small mercy that he was allowed to walk on his own once more.

Following the trail of his dried blood drops, Bilbo walked around the corner.

"_Bilbo_!" Balin's voice called him as soon as he stepped into the view. "Put your bow away, Kili – it's just our missing hobbit. Oh, how relieved I am! Bilbo, are you..."

The question trailed away, when the crickets suddenly swarmed around Bilbo. A low growl formed in the direction of the dwarves, and Bilbo looked up at his friends.

They were standing almost thirty steps ahead of him, the black bars between them and Bilbo keeping Bilbo an eternity apart from his saviours. Between the bars, Kili was aiming an arrow at the unclothed dwarf, while Fili stood by his brother, a sword clenched in his hand. Behind them, Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin were glaring at the unclothed dwarf, muttering to themselves so quietly Bilbo couldn't hear their words. There were many other dwarves behind his friends, Bilbo noted, but most of them couldn't fit into the narrow hallway, the only hint of their presence being the low growls and the clattering of weapons coming from behind the curving corner.

Thorin was standing next to Fili, his grim presence dominating the hallway. He wasn't wearing a cape and his blue corroded one was still lying on the ground next to beheaded Albert. The white linen of Thorin's shirt was wet with sweat, his long dark hair like a thundercloud around his head. The expression on Thorin's face was carefully guarded, but when his gaze flickered to Bilbo's wounded arm, Bilbo could see his eyes flashing like a lightning, even from the distance. Thorin's gaze swept Bilbo's body, as if the king was searching for other wounds. Finding none, Thorin finally looked up at Bilbo's face.

Bilbo turned his face away, unable to meet the searching gaze of his friend. He felt ashamed of causing so much trouble, of getting caught by the crickets. Oh, how Bilbo wished he hadn't been following Thorin the whole evening! Had he decided to hide in one place instead of running around until he was sweaty, Thorin never would have found him and he never would have had to escape into the hallway full of giant crickets – he never would have been caught!

Bilbo might have fretted about the situation longer, hadn't the glimmering in the corner of his eye suddenly caught his attention. It was the key he had thrown away, Bilbo noted, the key to the black door keeping him and his friends apart. The key was still glimmering rather prettily under the diamonds, lying on the exact same spot where Bilbo had thrown it. Apparently, whichever rod the dwarves had used hadn't been long enough to reach it.

The crickets moved closer to the dwarves, pulling Bilbo along. As they passed by the key, Bilbo stepped onto it as stealthily as he could. He planned to drag his foot, so that he could get the key closer to the door, close enough for him to kick it to the dwarves. It was a good plan, considering the circumstances.

Or it would have been, had his actions actually gone as unnoticed as he had thought: Bilbo had barely managed to take two scuffing steps, when he heard a snarl behind his back and one of the crickets wrenched him away from the key, proceeding to drag him towards the black door by his bleeding arm.

"Palps off him!" Kili commanded immediately, aiming the arrow at the cricket. "Let go off the halfling, _now_, or I _swear _I'll hit you right in the brain through your left eye."

"_If the king's nephew kills Pullamaha_," the other crickets hissed, proceeding to leap furiously around Bilbo, "_we will kill the hobbit. We will tear him apart in front of you. You won't have time to stop us all. The hobbit will be dead, before you have shot all of us._"

"I'd shoot as many of you as I could..." Kili muttered, even as his bow was already being withdrawn by grim-looking Thorin.

The crickets seemed to calm down, when the arrow wasn't pointing at one of their own anymore, or at least they halted their leaping, gathering behind their leader and Bilbo instead.

"Interesting..." drawled the Master of the crickets, as he looked from Bilbo to Thorin and Kili, giving Kili a malicious leer. "So that is one of the nephews of the princeling, my dears. Very interesting. I do recognize him from your descriptions. He truly is just as ugly as his uncle, just like you said he would be."

It was probably because of nervous tension and Bilbo's mixed feelings – relief at seeing his friend, frustration of being so helpless, fear of his capturers, shame for causing such trouble – why the statement and the leer the dwarf sent at Kili made Bilbo's blood boil.

Bilbo kicked the cricket holding him in the leg. Letting out a surprised "eek", the cricket let him go, and Bilbo stumbled forward, until he was standing right next to the dwarf.

Swallowing all the whimpers that threatened to escape his lips, Bilbo looked up at the dwarf and _glowered_.

"One of the nephews of the _king_," he snarled between his gritted teeth. "And don't call them ugly – they both look _lovely_!"

The loud slap he received across his face for his words wasn't exactly unexpected, but the fact did nothing to deaden the furious grumbling coming from the other side of the bars.

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**Could've been longer, but I though I'd give you some kind of an update, so that you didn't think I had abandoned the fic. I hope you liked the update.  
**

**Have a lovely weekend!**


	7. Chapter 7

**The seventh chapter. This one was so much fun to write.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapters!**

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"Only speak when spoken to," the dwarf hissed, taking a hold of Bilbo's arm. "You are my hostage, so behave accordingly."

The dwarf's grasp wasn't that tight, as his fingers were weak and fragile, but the dwarf had placed his hand on top of the bleeding wound and Bilbo couldn't help the tears of pain that suddenly moistened his eyes. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look into the dwarf's malicious eye. Bilbo could see his own reflection there, pale but defiant, and he gave himself a dark smirk just to keep his spirits up. Oh, how tookish he looked...

"Not quite right in the head, are you," the dwarf sneered at his face. "There is nothing amusing in your current situation, you filthy little creature, so stop simpering and cry."

"I strongly advice you to let Master Baggins go," Thorin's voice carried to them, calm and authoritative.

Glad for an excuse to turn his head away from the unclothed dwarf, Bilbo turned to look at his friends.

Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin had given room for four archers who were now standing on both sides of Kili, ready to shoot on command, but not yet aiming their arrows at anyone. Fili was standing behind his brother, looking proud and slightly arrogant and just the way Bilbo knew Fili looked whenever he was afraid. Next to Fili, Thorin was studying the unclothed dwarf with narrowed, calculating eyes: where there had been fury before was now pure hatred, and Bilbo just knew that whatever happened, the unclothed dwarf was going to meet his end by Thorin's hand, if the king could help it at all.

"Master Baggins is under my protection," Thorin continued, his gaze sweeping the crowd of crickets. "Harming him will be considered an assault against one of the royalty. If you wish to avoid the most dire of consequences, give us the key to this door and allow Master Baggins to come to us."

The crickets shifted nervously, their antennae whizzing as if they were doing their best to gather more information about the seemingly calm king. It looked like Thorin was confusing them, like the crickets didn't quite know what to think of him.

"_Not shouting,_" the crickets muttered, sounding upset. "_Feels furious but is not shouting. What to think? What to do? Not shouting..._"

The Master of the crickets gave Thorin an unimpressed snort, apparently not troubled by the king's words at all.

"'An assault against one of the royalty'," the dwarf repeated in a mocking voice. "_I_ am all the real royalty there is! I am King Gur, the ruler of all dwarves and crickets, the one true King Under the Mountain."

An angry wave of murmurs went through the crowd of dwarves at his words.

"Outrageous!" Gloin snarled, giving Bilbo a start by banging his axe against the ground. "King Thorin is the rightful king and claiming otherwise is treason!"

"Treason!" squeaked the unclothed dwarf – Gur, his name apparently was. "Treason, you dare say, you _filth_! I was the only dwarf that stayed in this mountain, when Smaug shooed all the other dwarves away. I was the only dwarf that never abandoned the home mountain! Everyone else either ran away or died, while I did neither, and I think that makes _me_ the king. I am the King Under the Mountain, and no-one can deny that!"

"Consider your words carefully, Dwarf Gur," Balin warned, and although Bilbo couldn't see the old dwarf from all the larger figures standing between them, he thought Balin sounded just as grim as other dwarves were looking. "We will take your past into consideration, as long as you release Master Baggins immediately. He is injured and his wound needs to be treated as soon as possible, as he has spent such a prolonged time among kamalas."

"One of my kamalas has been killed," Gur complained, watching as blood drops ran down Bilbo's arm, before catching them with his long, fragile fingers. The crickets seized Bilbo to keep him in place, preventing him from flinching away from Gur's unwanted touch.

"His name was Alfred and he was dear to me. I am only using the hobbit to avenge my poor Alfred."

"_Albert_," the crickets hurried to speak. "_Dead brother was called Albert. Named after an eaten human._"

"Oh, yes," Gur smiled. "Albert, indeed."

Bilbo winced, when Gur touched his arm again catching yet another blood drop.

"Many dwarves have returned to Erebor," Bilbo began hesitantly, clearing his throat and glancing towards his friends for support. "You might still have living relatives, Master Gur. Perhaps a cousin, or a second cousin, or even a sibling. We could help you to search for them."

"You don't have to spend the rest of your life up here in isolation," Balin agreed from somewhere behind the archers. "Erebor is full of life again. You should come and experience it yourself."

Gur scoffed, taking Bilbo by the curly hair and forcing him to face him.

"If you had a beard," Gur changed the subject of conversation, eyeing Bilbo's features thoughtfully, "I would shave it right here, while your beloved prince is watching. Tell me, lovely hobbit, have you ever heard of _veripartah_?"

Bilbo had, of course, heard of it, as dwarves considered veripartah one of the worst possible ways to disgrace an enemy. "Veripartah" meant literally a bloody beard: all of the enemy's beard was shaved off, before their chin and cheeks were smeared with their own blood. Bilbo thought it sounded rather disgusting, although he could think of many acts that appeared a lot more humiliating.

His dwarven friends, on the other hand, seemed appalled even at the thought of their beard being shaved off and replaced by a bloody one. A dead silence had fallen into the other side of the bars at the mention of veripartah. Bilbo could see that the dwarves stood frozen in place, staring at his and Gur's exchange with something akin to horror on their faces.

"Do not do anything rash, Dwarf Gur," Kili said slowly in a cautious voice, his gaze flickering between Bilbo and Gur. "Master Baggins is my uncle's future betrothed, so the consequences of violating him would be horrible and very likely even fatal."

Future betrothed.

Thorin gave Kili's back an icy glare, while Bilbo flushed and spluttered, not quite knowing whether he should have felt delighted that Kili thought Thorin liked Bilbo _that_ much, or exasperated for the prince to be as foolish as to tell something like _that_ to a mad dwarf and a bunch of giant crickets.

"The prince's betrothed?" Gur sounded gleeful, looking at Bilbo with new found interest. "Well, I never – I thought the hobbit was a jester, at most."

Kili seemed to catch his mistake, as his eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh, d-did I say betrothed?" he asked, swallowing hard and hunching his shoulders as if he could feel Thorin's glare on his back. "S-silly me. What I _meant to_ say was that, er, that Bilbo... will be throttled. Yes! Bilbo will _be throttled_. By my uncle! Because they loath each other so much. It's not like they like each other, or anything, quite the opposite, actually. Bilbo will be throttled by my uncle in the future. _I must have a desease that makes me use different words to those that I'm thinking._"

The last bit was said very quickly, before Kili snapped his mouth shut and focused on stroking the fletchings of his arrow, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. His face was bright red, but it was difficult to say whose face was the reddest, his, Fili's, Thorin's or Bilbo's.

"I will certainly be throttling someone," Thorin muttered gruffly, and Kili's shoulders hunched even further.

"Well," Gur coughed, his voice as hoarse as ever, "if you want to throttle the hobbit, ugly Prince Thorin, there will be a price to pay to have him back."

"There _will_ be a price to pay, indeed," Thorin agreed.

"There are many things _we_ wish for in exchange for the hobbit," Gur mused, looking pointedly at the crickets behind him. "But before I tell you any one of them, let me give you a little demonstration as of what I would do to your 'future betrothed', if you weren't to yield to my demands."

Pullamaha and one other cricket kept Bilbo firmly in place, while Gur leered at Bilbo, reaching out a hand to him. Ignoring the objecting voices coming from the other side of the bars, the dwarf then wrapped his fingers around Bilbo's bleeding arm very gently and carefully, before suddenly squeezing, hard.

The pain was immediate and overwhelming. Bilbo thought he might have cried out loud, but it was difficult to tell, as his world turned momentarily black and silent. Once the noises flooded back into his ears, he opened his eyes and realized two things at once: one, he wasn't screaming but whimpering; two, Gur was wiping his bloody hands on Bilbo's cheeks.

Bilbo tried to flinch back, but the crickets kept him standing still.

Thorin and other dwarves weren't making a sound. When Bilbo sneaked a glance at them, he noticed that most of them looked pale and outraged, while Thorin was clenching and unclenching his fists, a distraught look on his face. None of the dwarves met Bilbo's gaze, even though they were all looking at him, keeping a close track of his movement.

"Your fate has been decided, Dwarf Gur," declared Fili, his voice hoarse, as if he was holding back whatever it was that he truly wanted to say. "For what you just did, I will let my uncle torment you to death, while I slaughter as many of your kamalas as I possibly can."

"Your death will be slow and enjoyable," Thorin agreed darkly. "The fury of the house of Durin will be released upon you."

The crickets murmured to themselves, getting noticiably more anxious by the moment, while Gur was merely staring at Bilbo, his hands still hovering close to the hobbit's face. The look in Gur's eye was surprised and curious, and as the dwarf leaned closer, so close that Bilbo could smell his foul breath, it turned to an almost hungry one.

"You have something," Gur stated, narrowing his eyes. "When I touched your face, I could hear someone _whispering_ to me. You _have something_ and it's... it's calling me. It's calling me. I could hear it whispering all kinds of things..."

Bilbo had no idea what the dwarf was talking about, but Gur had lived decades in isolation, so he was bound to be quite mad.

"It wants to belong to me," Gur continued, his eye raking over Bilbo's body, as if he was looking for something only he could see. "Whatever it is, give it to me."

"My hands are tied," Bilbo remarked, wriggling a bit to emphasize his point. "But if you untie me, I'll see what I can do."

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**Poor Bilbo. I kind of hate Gur right now.**

**Review? :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**As some of you have pointed out, I'm currently not quite following the original Hiding, Hiding theme. I will probably get back to that later in the story, but if I don't, I'll just change the title and the summary, so don't worry. :) It's nice that you're still reading, even though it might be difficult to tell where I'm taking this story with all the plot twists etc.**

**Thank you for the reviews! They've been a great motivator!**

**Warnings: some unwanted touching and hinting at the possibility of "taking someone by force", although nothing graphic will happen (I don't write dub/non con)**

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"_Gratjuš_, " Gur spat, his large spit drops splashing on Bilbo's face. "If I untied you, beardless one, you might find a way to escape. I'm no fool, but neither are you, I believe. Just tell me what It is that is whispering to me and where It is on your body, so that I can take It by myself."

Gur was mad, quite mad, terribly mad, and Bilbo didn't really know what he should have answered to Gur's demands. It was apparent that Gur was looking for something that he thought was whispering to him, even though no-one else could neither see or hear It. The worst bit of it all was that Gur seemed to think that Bilbo had whatever It was that he was looking for. What was one supposed to say, when he was being captured by a mad dwarf who was hearing things, who was looking for things that didn't exist?

"Uhh..." Bilbo hesitated, trying in vain to exchange an anxious, nonplussed look with Thorin who was glaring at Gur with ire almost as freezing as it was burning.

Bilbo managed to met Kili's eyes briefly, but the young dwarf was quick to lower his gaze, as if ashamed, while Fili and the other dwarves still weren't able to look the hobbit in the eye. The dwarves were obviously very upset about the whole veripartah ordeal, and if Bilbo knew his Durins at all, he would have said they were also feeling guilty for letting Gur touch Bilbo's face in the first place, which was something he would have to address later. The dwarves really couldn't have prevented it, so they shouldn't have felt guilty about it either.

"Um, I don't think I have anything that can talk," Bilbo admitted eventually, thinking of all the things he had in his pockets – the Ring, a couple of copper coins, a piece of red thread he often used as a book mark, a button he had found under his bed that morning... "Or whisper, for that matter. But I do have a musical box in my chambers, if you'd like that. It plays a dwarven song called The Lullaby of Mother Mountain and it looks very pretty."

The musical box did, indeed, look very pretty. Thorin had spent days making the engravings and adjusting the wheels, until he had been content enough with his handiwork to give it to Bilbo. Bilbo really did not want to give the box away, as it reminded him of Thorin's soft humming and the gentle, small smiles the two of them sometimes shared, but if the box was the price of his freedom... well, in that case, Bilbo would just have to learn to fall asleep without the soothing sounds of The Lullaby of Mother Mountain.

"I don't care for music," Gur said hoarsely, crushing Bilbo's hopes of buying his freedom with the musical box.

"_We do_," the crickets announced eagerly. "_But no box is enough to repay Albert's death. Perhaps if we could have TWO boxes..._"

"Enough with the boxes already!" Gur snapped and the crickets cowered, lowering their antennae in a submissive manner. "I want that thing that is whispering to me and promising me things! I want It and I believe It belongs to me, as _It wants me to have It_! I can hear it telling me so!"

At that, the perplexed crickets reached hesitantly towards Bilbo with their antennae, as if they were trying to sense whatever it was that Gur was hearing.

Bilbo tried desperately to think of a way to escape, a way to get released. All he could come up with was that he would have to get his hands free, so that he could put the Ring on. Once untied, Bilbo could simply slip his hand into his pocket, put the Ring on and disappear. Then, once invisible, he would head for the glimmering key and open the door by himself. By suddenly disappearing, he would startle everyone – apart from Thorin who already knew he could turn invisible – which meant that he would have to be cautious not to get in the harm's way. There would probably be flying arrows and poisonous spit, stamping feet and general uproar, when the dwarves and the crickets tried to comprehend what just had happened and where he had gone to.

Bilbo's plans were interrupted, when he heard Thorin speaking in a low voice.

"Bring me the one called Zamek," Bilbo heard Thorin saying. "Use the third hauler to get to the lower levels faster."

Thorin had barely voiced his command, when Dwalin was already on the move, making his way through the crowd of dwarves with quiet, single-minded movements, his intention of getting Zamek to the black door as soon as possible quite apparent.

Zamek. Bilbo swallowed and sent Thorin an apologizing look the king didn't seem to notice. He felt guilty and sorry for causing Thorin, the mighty king of Erebor, to fraternize with someone like Zamek. Zamek. That name had been mentioned in Erebor several times during the last three weeks, and never had the voice saying it been cheerful.

Unlike Bilbo, Zamek was a _real_ burglar whose way of earning her living was "dubiously ambiguous", to say the least. She was both hated and warily admired in Erebor for her sharp mind, quiet feet and cunning manners (not to mention for her beard that, according to Nori, was "as thick and strong as a troll"). She could be a ruthless killer if bothered, Bilbo knew, but her real reputation was that of a lurker, of someone who could pick any lock if only it benefitted her.

Bilbo had to admit that, in their current predicament, a dwarf who could pick the lock of the black door would, unquestionably, be of use, even if the said dwarf happened to be a shameless burglar. Though who was Bilbo to blame Zamek: among some dwarves, he was considered a burglar himself, wasn't he. In any case, if anyone could pick the lock of the black door, it was probably Zamek.

Under normal circumstances, Zamek simply couldn't have been found, but for once, luck was on their side, as Zamek had been captured not a month earlier. She had languished in the dungeons ever since and would probably be eager enough to help, to get a chance to leave her dungeon for a while (and to try to escape).

Gur didn't seem too interested in Thorin sending for Zamek, but the crickets stirred in alarm at the king's words.

"_Zamek_," the crickets repeated the name agitatedly. "_The one called Lock! Hear that, Master – ugly King Thorin sent for Lock! Should be wary, should be wary, indeed. She'll open the door and the crickets will get killed! Should escape, while still can!_"

"Stop your yapping," Gur muttered, staring at Bilbo's stomach, as if trying to decide whether his mysterious whispers could be coming from there, while Bilbo wondered how in Aulë the crickets could be so well-informed about dwarves living in Erebor that they knew even burglars by their nicknames.

"One would think you're nothing but a brood of cockroaches with the way you make a racket over nothing. I can hear someone whispering to me and we're not leaving, until the hobbit tells me who or what It is."

"I'll tell you," Bilbo lied," if you untie me."

It might have not been the most decent of things to do to lie to a pitiful dwarf like Gur, but after spending so much time with dwarves, Bilbo had learnt that one could not always be as decent as one wanted to be. If he could fool Gur into untying him, it was worth the lie.

"I won't untie you – no chance of that happening," Gur muttered, ruining Bilbo's escape plan. "But let me tell you what I _will_ do, if you don't tell me what is whispering to me. If you don't tell me, _gratjuš_, I will have my crickets holding you down on the ground, while I violate you, while I have you as many times as I please. I haven't tried to get, shall we say, 'delighted' in decades, but for you, hobbit, I'm willing to try. Especially as your 'future betrothed' would be watching my every move, unable to help you."

"There is no need for further demonstrations, Dwarf Gur," Thorin was quick to cut in and Bilbo thought he heard a slight note of apprehension in his friend's tone. "There is no need to cause Master Baggins any further harm, as I have already realized the gravity of the situation, and am now willing to... listen to your demands."

"I only want what belongs to me," Gur said absent-mindedly. "It wants to belong to me, so I should have It, no denying of that... Tell me, hobbit, what is It that is whispering to me?"

"Could be your conscience," Bilbo dared to say, even as he couldn't stop his bloodied chin from quivering at Gur's threat. Threatening to take someone by force was too horrible to think about. How could anyone even say things like that! And how was Bilbo supposed to tell Gur what was whispering to him, when the whispers didn't even exist outside Gur's head?

Bilbo was tired and dirty and hurting, and he really,_ really_ didn't want to be anywhere near Gur or the crickets. He was terrified of them. Horrified, even. He flinched every time one of the crickets snapped its palps, and his heart began to hammer, whenever they opened their mouths. The sight of Albert spitting poisonous slime was still fresh in Bilbo's mind and the image did nothing to help Bilbo to pull himself together.

As if on its own accord, Bilbo's gaze flickered to the beheaded cricket laying at the feet of the archers. Bilbo wondered if things had gone differently if he and Thorin had tried a friendlier approach, when first talking to Albert – if they had greeted the cricket politely, asked its name and actually talked with it...

"Impudent hobbit!" Gur snarled and gave the crickets some kind of an order by motioning with his hand.

The order had apparently involved lifting, as Bilbo was suddenly hoisted up in the air and then dropped down onto the ground, before he had fully even realized his feet weren't on the solid ground any longer. Hitting the ground, Bilbo let out a surprised yelp, followed shortly after by a groan of pain, as his brain caught up with his body. The crickets rolled him to his side and kept him there with their palps.

The dwarves let out a growl of anger at his mistreatment.

"_That_ crickets is mine," Bilbo heard Kili's voice cut through the growling. "When the time comes, save it for me. I'll teach it what happens, when hobbits get dropped."

"It's- it's name is Bernhard," Bilbo managed, wincing, as he took in the crickets towering above him. "And the one next to it is called Pullamaha. I don't know the names of the others, so perhaps we should introduce ourselves to each other and get better acquainted, before we-"

"_Tricks!_" Bilbo gave a start at the crickets' unexpected shout. "_The ugly hobbit is doing tricks to get released. Master should not listen to the hobbit! Crickets won't let Master believe the hobbit_._ Tricks, it's doing!_"

The crickets weren't apparently eager at all at befriending Bilbo or the dwarves. Pullamaha leaned down to snap its palps mere inches from Bilbo's nose and Bilbo flinched.

"Don't drool on me!" Bilbo squeaked in desperation, as a drop of green slime dropped next to his head from Pullamaha's mouth. The image of Thorin's blue cloak popped into his mind and Bilbo shivered at the mental image of his face corroding like the fur collar. "Please."

"_We should leave_," the crickets suggested, not acknowledging Bilbo but thankfully not drooling on him either, as Pullamaha retreated and left Bilbo's face alone. "_Once Lock arrives, it opens the __door and then ugly King Thorin will kill Master and all the crickets! Have to leave, Master, when still can!_"

"We're not going anywhere," Gur scoffed. "Can't you hear how much It wants to belong to me?"

"_We don't hear a thing_," the crickets voiced Bilbo's thought. No-one even knew what "It" was! All the voices were inside Gur's head and Gur truly was terrifyingly mad!

"_Nothing is whispering, Master. It's all tricks of the hobbit! The hobbit is doing tricks!_"

"Uhh, no," Bilbo hurried to defend himself, while the dwarves shifted on their feet, noticeably concerned for Bilbo, "_no_. I'm not doing any tricks. I think, though, that the voices might be caused by the decades of living in isolation. Perhaps if you came with us, Master Gur, and got some help, the voices, the whispers, would go away in time."

"_Don't trust the hobbit!_" the crickets warned, hissing at Bilbo. "_The hobbit does tricks. Should leave, Master, while still can!_"

Gur gave the crickets a grunt as an answer, before he took a hold of his withered thighs, moving his legs one by one, so that he was sitting sideways on his cricket. Held still by the crickets, Bilbo could only watch in dread, as Gur dropped down onto the ground, his bony arms surprisingly strong and flexible, as he eased his drop with his hands.

As Gur began to crawl towards Bilbo, hauling himself forward with his arms, while dragging his limp legs behind him, Bilbo got scared in earnest. Was Gur really going to try to... to _take him by force_? Surely not. No, of course he wouldn't. Things like that just didn't happen. Not to Bilbo, at least. _No_.

"S-stay away!" Bilbo commanded nervously, his gaze lingering on the blind white eye that glowed in the dim hallway like a pickled onion.

Bilbo was never going to eat pickled onions again. Never ever_ ever_ again.

"Stay away from the hobbit!" Thorin's curt command hold much more authority than Bilbo's had and Gur actually halted for one hesitant moment, while the crickets flinched back.

"I don't think so," Gur finally muttered and began to crawl forward again, a determined look on his face. "I only want what belongs to me. There is no denying I should have It, because _It wants_ to be _mine_."

"He certainly does not!" Fili opposed. "Does he look like he wants you anywhere near you? Get the _hrot_ away from him!"

Under normal circumstances Bilbo would have frowned at the use of such a coarse word, but now he barely even noticed it. He was scared, oh so horrified. He tried to kick about, but the crickets were too strong for him and there were too many of them. They kept him in place with seemingly no effort at all and Bilbo felt a lump forming in his throat.

"Don't touch me," he gasped, when Gur suddenly loomed above him, while the dwarves, judging from the loud banging and shouting, were desperate to get through the black bars by force.

"If I manage to find It by myself, little hobbit, I won't take you," Gur promised, hissing at Bilbo's face, baring his teeth, three of which were in decent condition, while the others were black and rotten.

Bilbo hoped that Dwalin would be back with lock picking Zamek before Bilbo had to find out the consequences of Gur not finding whatever it was that his ill mind had created.

"I'm not particularly fond of creatures without a beard, even if they had lovely faces. Not all of us get naturally excited by unnatural creatures, like _beardless_ hobbits."

"I'll have you know," Bilbo said, ignoring the trembling of his voice, "that hobbits are not 'unnatural creatures'. And even if we don't have beards, we grow lovely hair on our legs. I, for one, have respectable, perfectly healthy, thick and well-combed hair on _both_ of my legs, even if I don't have a beard!"

"Be quiet, Bilbo," Thorin said in a strangled voice. "This is certainly not the time to accentuate your merits."

Before anything else could be said, Gur put his hands on Bilbo's stomach. Bilbo's immediate wince was accompanied by the loud growling coming from the other side of the bars. From the corner of his eye, Bilbo could see that Thorin had moved to stand right in front of the black door, his hands holding the bars tightly. While Thorin and the other dwarves could do nothing but watch, Gur ran his hands over Bilbo's sides, as if trying to feel whatever it was that he was looking for through the brown waistcoat.

Bilbo bit his lip, regretting everything he had done since the dinner. Why had he been so foolish as to get sweaty by running after Thorin, when he could have just gone to hide among the dwarves who were singing and dancing and drinking? Why _in __Aulë_ had he changed his course to run into the Guarding Level of Mazes instead of staying in the safety of the market hall? Why hadn't he just halted on his tracks, turned around to face Thorin and thrown the king off balance by, for instance, squeezing (or kissing) the royal nose? Thorin would have been so confused he would have been left gaping, while Bilbo could have sneaked away, unnoticed, uncaptured, uninjured.

And why, why, _why_ had Bilbo been senseless enough to lock the black door and to throw the key away, even after Thorin had told him there might have been dangerous creatures lurking around the guarding level?

Back in the Bag End, nothing like this ever happened. There were no giant crickets there, neither were there mad, voice-hearing dwarves like Gur. Back in the Bag End...

Suddenly Bilbo felt like choking, even though no-one was smothering him. His heart was pounding in his ears, but all he could really focus on was his own rapid breathing and the pitiful whimpering sounds that were escaping his lips. He felt dizzy and nauseous. Intense fear had taken him in its clutches and Bilbo didn't really know whether he was trashing around or frozen to the spot.

"Thorin," Bilbo choked desperately, as tears began to stream down his face. "Thorin... help, I can't... breathe! I'm... dying!"

"HANDS OFF!" Thorin's immediate roar echoed in his ears. "GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY HOBBIT! CAN'T YOU SEE HE CANNOT BREATHE! _DON'T TOUCH HIM_, YOU VILE CREATURE!"

Thorin's roar caused the whole hallway to erupt. Above Bilbo's choking sounds, there were bellows laced with fury, shouts of rage, loud bangs of metal hitting metal, the crickets' fearful, angry yelps, Thorin calling Bilbo's name... Had words taken a physical form, Gur would have been drowned in threats and dwarven swear words in a few heartbeats.

While it all happened, nonchalant Gur kept running his hands over Bilbo's body, looking for whatever it was that he thought was whispering to him.

Bilbo thought in passing about the Ring. A dwarf like Gur would have done horrible things with a ring that could make its wearer invisible. Bilbo really didn't want Gur to find the Ring, but apart from wriggling there was very little he could do to prevent the dwarf from searching his body, especially as Bilbo couldn't really breathe.

Bilbo didn't know how long he had laid there doing his best to suck thin air into his vanished lungs, while Gur searched his body, when the crickets suddenly let out a horrible, piercing screak.

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**Bilbo's having a bit of a panic attack there, I believe. He'll have nightmares, once all of this is over. And poor dwarves, must be very frustrating for them to just watch helplessly, unable to do anything. I'm starting to like the crickets, actually. It probably has something to do with the odd way they seem to be thinking simultaneously.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the long time it took to update. The next chapter shouldn't take that long.**

**Warnings: some "background violence", nothing graphic  
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"Master!" the crickets shrieked, sounding excited. "It's beautiful!"

Bilbo craned his neck to see what the crickets were talking about. To his worriment, Bilbo saw that Gur had found the Ring from the pocket of the waistcoat. The dwarf was now holding it up in the air between his thumb and his middle finger, a triumphant look on his face.

The band of the Ring sparkled beautifully, as the diamond-reflected light hit it, and the crickets were gathering around their leader, apparently mesmerized by the sight. Bilbo could understand their fascination – apart from the diamond ceiling, there probably weren't many beautiful things in the Guarding Level of Mazes and the Ring just might have been the most beautiful thing Gur and the crickets had seen in years, possibly even in decades.

"Mine," Bilbo heard Gur whispering in awe. "Mine! It says so, so It is mine!"

Oh. Bilbo swallowed. So Gur had decided that the Ring was the one that was calling him, whispering him things. The Ring was more interesting than a button or a piece of threat, that was for sure, and Bilbo could well understand why Gur's ill mind would have decided to focus on it. It was one of the most valuable things Bilbo had, in more ways than one, but Bilbo was still almost as relieved for the dwarf to have stopped touching him as he was worried for the Ring now being in Gur's hands. What if Gur found out about the Ring's ability to make its wearer invisible?

Bilbo took deep breaths, as deep as he could, and tried to calm down, forming several more or less clever plans of action in his mind, blinking away tears that blurred his eyes. His best plan, he thought, was to use the situation to his advantage and try to crawl away from between the palps now that Gur and the crickets were focused on the Ring. Once safe enough, he would figure out something to retrieve the Ring, but the most important thing right now was to try to stay alive.

Just as Bilbo made his first, hesitant movement towards his freedom by shifting a bit, the crickets began to screak in earnest, startling Bilbo into freezing.

"_Master!_" the crickets screaked and Bilbo felt a lump forming in his throat, waiting for the sharp palps to bite into his flesh once more to stop him from escaping. "_Master, now we can hear It too, now we, too, can hear It whispering to our antennae! Let us hold the Ring for a while, Master. Don't tire your arms by carrying It. Let the crickets hold the Ring for you!_"

Gur closed his hand around the Ring and clenched it, while Bilbo let out a breath of relief, as it seemed that the screaks hadn't been caused by him moving after all. Apparently the crickets were simply just as mad as Gur, believing that they, too, could hear the golden ring talking. Bilbo felt sorry for the crickets for their madness, he really did, but under the circumstances he had to use their confusion to his own advantage.

Cautiously, Bilbo began to worm his way from between the palps, careful not to brush any of the creatures around him.

"The Ring belongs to me," Gur was declaring, while Bilbo did his best to escape. "It's _mine_, and if anyone tries to take it away from me, they'll answer to me!"

The crickets let out mutters and the sounds their palps made could only be described as "discontented".

Bilbo managed to wriggle himself stealthily out of the cricket's hold. Once free, he looked towards his friends and gave Thorin a self-satisfied smirk, albeit a bit teary one. The slight curl of the lips he received in return was not amused, full of worry and concern as it was, but Bilbo counted it as a smile anyway, as Thorin's smiles were always encouraging and Bilbo really needed encouragement in his current ordeal.

While Thorin's dwarves continued their efforts to get through the bars by shouting and banging on them with their weapons, Bilbo set about to edge his way towards them. It wasn't easy or comfortable at all, as his hands were still tied behind his back, but at least it was progress, wasn't it. In any case it was better than being held in place by palps.

"The Ring is Master's, Master claims," Bernhard said, not noticing or paying attention to Bilbo who was inching determinedly towards the door at its feet. "But the crickets would really like to hold the Ring for a while, and so the crickets should be allowed to."

"_Haven't we always been nice to Master?_" the other crickets joined in. "_Why can't Master be nice to crickets for once?_"

"Being 'nice' is one thing," Gur coughed, sounding annoyed, "but letting someone touch what belongs to them is completely another. The Ring is _mine_ and I don't want you tainting it."

"_We wouldn't taint It!_" the crickets were quick to assure. "_We would just hold It for a while. Please, Master, put It into our palps, so that we can feel It, so that we can listen to Its whispers. Just for a while, Master, just for a while. It is so beautiful in every way..._"

Bilbo didn't know if the crickets had yet noticed it themselves, but they were closing in on their leader, slowly but steadily, snapping their palps more threateningly than before. It looked like the crickets were resolute to hold the Ring, like they were going to do it no matter what Gur would say, while Gur appeared resolute not to let the crickets hold the Ring, no matter how much the crickets wished for it.

As none of his capturers were paying any attention to him, Bilbo continued easing his way towards his friends, towards safety. His arm was hurting and sticky with blood, and his side ached from the way he had been dropped down onto the ground. He still felt sick thinking about Gur's hands on his body...

Even though Bilbo was supposed to be demonstrating that he didn't need anyone's protection (because he _didn't_, not really, even if it currently looked a bit like it), he wished he could have been on the other side of the bars already, standing among the dwarves. Still, that was where he was heading to, wasn't it, so all was going to be fine, as long as Gur and the crickets would stay focused on the Ring until Bilbo had reached the safety of the bars. Once there, he would be more or less shielded, at least from the palps.

It seemed like his wish was being granted, as the crickets circled around Gur, and while several of them almost stepped on Bilbo, all of them ignored him. Minding the stamping feet, Bilbo rolled to his stomach, relieved to get the pressure off his aching side. He risked a look behind his back to note that Gur was still clenching the Ring in his fist, holding his hand tightly against his chest and glaring at the crickets with obvious fear and disgust in his one seeing eye.

"Move back, my dears," Gur gave the command, but for once the crickets didn't obey. "Move back, I said! What has gotten into you? The Ring wants to be mine! Can't you see I cannot give It to you, even if I wanted to? No insect should even have something like It! The Ring is simply too precious for you."

"_Indeed, it is too precious,_" the crickets agreed," _for a _dwarf_ to hold It. The crickets want the Ring and we shall have it, one way or the other._"

As Bilbo watched, Pullamaha reached towards Gur's clenched fist with its palps. Gur might have found out what it felt like to have a giant cricket biting into his hand hadn't he suddenly reached out his other hand and taken a firm hold of Pullamaha's antennae. Pullamaha let out a pained scream, when Gur twisted and tugged the antennae, snarling at the cricket's face.

"I told you to move back!" Gur said hoarsely, even as the crickets were becoming noticeably upset and angry for one of their own getting hurt by their leader. "Never disobey me, you foolish creature. The Ring is mine, as It should be, and you will never touch It as long as I live."

It had obviously been the wrong thing to say, as the crickets began to quiver their wings furiously, focusing their black eyes on Gur, as they snapped their palps almost contemplatively. Swallowing hard, Bilbo turned away from the ominous sight and began to crawl towards waiting Thorin as quickly as he could.

"If we had the Ring," he heard one of the crickets musing behind him, "we would fare well without Master, I believe."

"_The Ring would take care of us,_" the other crickets agreed eagerly. "_All the crickets really need is the Ring. The beautiful Ring would take care of us, would tell us what to do, what to think._"

"Don't be fools!" Gur sneered and Bilbo thought he could hear both fear and disbelief in the dwarf's voice. "Haven't I fed you? Haven't I provided for you for all these years?"

"_Too often did Master kill our own to feed us,_" the choir of crickets claimed, sounding angrier by the moment. "_You made us eat our own brothers and sisters and you ate them with us, when you were hungry. The flesh of our family kept you alive – you owe us the Ring!_"

"I owe you nothing," Gur hissed. "This is _my_ mountain, _mine_! I am the King of All the Crickets and Dwarves, I am the King Under the Mountain, and it is only for the mercy I've shown you that you are still alive!"

"_Mercy..._" the crickets repeated. "_The crickets will not show mercy. The crickets will avenge their brothers and sisters. Their deaths will be paid._"

"Use the gift of the halflings, Bilbo," Thorin's low, grim voice suddenly carried to Bilbo's ears. "Now, if ever, it is the time for you to use it."

Thorin didn't know that Bilbo couldn't disappear, as Bilbo needed the Ring to "use the gift of the halflings". Had Bilbo could have done that, he would have turned invisible a long time ago to save himself instead of being held by crickets and touched by Gur while his friends watched. Thorin must have realized that too, but he probably believed that now that Bilbo wasn't hold by the palps any longer, the situation had changed and Bilbo could turn invisible at will once more. Bilbo still couldn't do as Thorin suggested, but the king didn't know that, and so Thorin hadn't counted for his softly uttered words to put Bilbo into any further danger. His words seemed to do just that, though, as Gur seemed to suddenly realize his prisoner was about to get away.

"The hobbit!" Gur shouted in his hoarse voice. "Get the hobbit, my dears, before he escapes! We still do need our hostage."

At Gur's words, Bilbo crawled faster than ever, while his friends spurred him on, their voices laced with worry and anxiousness. There were still at least fifteen steps between Bilbo and the relative safety of the bars...

To Bilbo's surprise, no palps bit into him, nor did any cricket jump onto him.

"Master cannot order us any longer," squeaked Pullamaha, its words explaining why none of the crickets had yet attacked Bilbo. "The Ring is our new leader, we don't need you anymore. We don't need any _dwarf_ any longer."

"_We don't need, we don't need. What should we do to a useless dwarf among us? To a useless dwarf who is holding our new leader in his hand and is not letting us hold It?_"

"We could kill him," one of the crickets suggested.

"_Indeed, we should kill him!_" the other crickets agreed.

Then, just like that, a fight broke out behind Bilbo. There were yells of surprise and pain coming from Gur, angry snapping of palps, rustling of feet, growling, hissing, screaming... And all the while Bilbo crawled forward, determined to reach the bars, before the crickets changed their mind and decided to come after him.

Next to Thorin, there was a hairy dwarf fiddling with the lock of the black door, Bilbo noticed as he looked up from the ground. The dwarf's face could barely be seen from all the thick, dark eyebrows, hair and beard, but a pair of striking blue eyes met Bilbo's gaze briefly, as Bilbo neared the door. The dwarf was Zamek the Burglar, Bilbo knew immediately, and if she was already picking the lock, the door would open in a few moments, if it could be opened at all.

His assumption turned out to be correct, as Bilbo had barely managed to crawl a foot forward, when the click of the lock opening could be heard and the door was banged wide open.

Just then, Gur fell silent. The old dwarf had very likely just died, been killed by his own crickets, but Bilbo didn't dare to look back to see for himself, afraid of the things that might have met him there if he did.

Who knows what would have happened next hadn't Zamek managed to open the door just when she did! The crickets might have come after Bilbo, torn him apart like they had done to their leader. Or perhaps they wouldn't have come after him at all, being too focused with the Ring to care for an escaping hobbit. It was impossible to tell, as Zamek had, indeed, managed to open the door and Bilbo's friends could now make their move, interrupting whatever plans the crickets might have had.

Letting out a battle-cry, the dwarves burst into the hallway, one after another, led by Fili, their weapons ready to strike. Dwalin, Fili and a few others were wielding swords, while most of the dwarves were holding axes.

As the hallway curved slightly to the right, the dwarves had the disadvantage of fighting with their left arm, while the furiously hissing crickets could split their poisonous slime as they wished. The slime, at least, didn't seem to be slowing the dwarven warriors down a bit, as they had covered their faces with cloaks to keep the slime from corroding their skin. How they could see anything from the thick fabric, Bilbo had no idea, but apparently they could, as there was no hesitation in their precise movements. They were quick to jump over Bilbo to put themselves between the bound hobbit and the crickets, even though the hallway was narrow and only a few of the dwarves could face the crickets at a time.

After the eleventh roaring dwarf had jumped over Bilbo, Thorin appeared, kneeling down beside him. Thorin's eyes were blazing with fire and the expression on his face was so wild and dangerous that Bilbo had to swallow hard and lower his gaze. Without neither one of them uttering a word, Thorin cut the red ropes binding Bilbo, before sheathing Orcrist.

"For disgracing our halfling!" Fili was shouting in a hoarse voice on the other side of the wall of dwarves and Bilbo heard an odd slurping sound, even if he had no idea what had caused it.

Bilbo couldn't see the fight, but from the sounds of it, the crickets were loosing fast. Even though the crickets hadn't been hospitable at all and had, in fact, bit him and dropped him down onto the ground on purpose, Bilbo didn't think it was enough of a reason for their entire family to be slaughtered. He dared to say as much to Thorin, going as far as pleading Thorin to demonstrate his true power by showing the crickets some mercy. Thorin gave him a discontented grunt as a reply.

"If you value our friendship at all," Thorin muttered, tying a piece of cloth hastily but tightly around Bilbo's wounded arm, "stay silent. I do not wish to hear your words just now."

Hesitantly, Bilbo closed his mouth with regret and swallowed everything he wanted to say. He felt ashamed and guilty for all the trouble he had caused, for the way the crickets and dwarves were now fighting because of him.

As Thorin lifted Bilbo up and over his shoulder, Bilbo didn't dare to resist but settled for hunging his head in shame and remaining silent.

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**Thank you for reading and reviewing! :)**

**I'm thinking about writing a story where Bilbo would have to deal with some xenophobia in Erebor. I might begin to work on that once I've finished this story, but am not sure yet.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

By the time they reached the top of the Silent Stairway, the heavy silence between the two of them had grown too much for Bilbo to bear. He felt restless and wished desperately for an opportunity to say something, to apologize for everything he had caused. It didn't really matter that he hadn't _meant_ _to_ cause anything bad to happen, as bad things _had_ happened and Bilbo had been the one to set it all in motion.

There was so much Bilbo felt he should apologize: First, he had forgotten his manners by abruptly leaving the dinner table without even thanking for the food first (oh, how confused and disappointed that must have made Bombur feel!), and during the whole meal Bilbo hadn't even properly acknowledged Gladur, the poor dwarf who had been ordered to protect him for the rest of Bilbo's or hers life. Bilbo had been upset with Thorin, yes, but being upset was not an excuse for behaving impolitely. As if the complete disregard of good manners hadn't been enough, Bilbo had then made the respectable king of Erebor run after him in the spur of the moment, caused an old dwarf to get killed and been the reason why the royal guards had attacked a family of giant crickets. Yes, there really was a lot for Bilbo to feel guilty, ashamed and sorry about, a lot for him to apologize for.

As they began to descend the Silent Stairway – Thorin carrying Bilbo, while Bilbo tried not to feel too dizzy in his current position – many dwarves around the market hall turned to look at their way. Bilbo didn't actually see the looks, as Thorin was still carrying him over his shoulder, but he could conclude the looks from the way Thorin seemed to move forward a bit straighter, from the way Thorin somehow managed to grow even more distant, even more majestic.

Thorin let out a quiet cough, one that Bilbo felt more than actually heard, but he still took the cough as his sign to break the silence, being watched by a crowd of dwarves or not.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, causing Thorin's form to tense under him with his words. "I know you wouldn't like to hear this right now, especially not said by me – no, definitely not said by me, as you already said you didn't want to hear my words if I valued our friendship (which I full-heartedly do, just to make it clear) – and I'm really, really sorry, but I feel that I simply _must_-"

"I'd rather you didn't," Thorin cut off the apology in a strangled voice and Bilbo's heart sank. "I am completely aware of your right to make your words known throughout Erebor if you so decide, but I have to ask you not to let me hear them. I would... greatly appreciate it, as I don't think I..."

Thorin trailed off, swallowing hard, and Bilbo bit his lip, feeling even worse than before.

Thorin was wet with sweat and hot against Bilbo's body, and Bilbo probably would have found their proximity unbearably exciting hadn't the guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. As it happened, he couldn't bring himself to think about anything apart from the awful things he had caused and done and faced since the dinner.

Frowning at the part of Thorin's back on which his nose kept bumping with every step taken, Bilbo contemplated on what would happen next. He didn't have time to think for long, however, as they soon reached the bottom of the stairway and Balin's disapproving voice interrupted his thoughts.

"That is very an unconventional way to carry a wounded hobbit," Bilbo heard Balin saying and Thorin came to a halt with a grunt. "We were just bringing the stretcher to you as requested. You could have waited for us for a few moments longer instead of hauling poor Bilbo around like that. His arm is bleeding and he must be quite shocked by... everything that has happened."

"Which is the exact reason why I wanted to take him away from the guarding level as soon as possible. And an 'unconventional' way or not, I needed to keep one of my arms ready to reach for Orcrist in case we met anything hostile."

To Bilbo, Thorin sounded almost defensive, which was odd in itself. Rare were the moments Thorin Oakenshield had felt the need to defend himself with his words and even rarer the ones when Thorin had wanted to justify his actions to someone. Usually Thorin just did as he believed was benefitting, not really bothering to care what other creatures thought of him.

"Perfectly understandable," Balin's gentle voice mused, "especially under the circumstances, but keeping the traditions in mind, it might be best for all if you were to let Bilbo down now, my dear laddie, before you... do something irreversible. You wouldn't want to abuse your power, would you."

"Of course not," Thorin stated firmly, his voice tight and full of barely contained emotions Bilbo didn't quite managed to grasp. "Never like that."

Thorin tightened his hold on Bilbo from protective to an almost possessive one, just for a moment, before he began to lower Bilbo down onto the stretcher Balin had apparently been taking to the guarding level before he had run into Bilbo and Thorin.

Once Bilbo could see other things apart from Thorin's back, he took in everything around them. Dwarves around the market hall were doing a poor job pretending they weren't keeping a close eye on Thorin and Bilbo – Bilbo saw one middle-aged dwarf trying to lit air instead of her pipe and many dwarves were bumping into each other, too busy as they were with watching Bilbo to keep a track of their own steps. When their eyes eventually flickered from Bilbo's bloody beard to Thorin, their faces darkened and they turned away to give their king and his hobbit some privacy of which Bilbo was very grateful.

Balin came to stand by Bilbo's left side, his friendly face full of concern, while Thorin occupied his right side. There were four healers as well, two of whom were carrying the stretcher on which Bilbo was now laying, while the other two hurried to tend to Bilbo, pushing Bilbo's friends out of their way.

Bilbo only knew one of the healers, a young absent-minded-looking dwarf called Abodius who was an exceptional dwarf in the same way as Ori: they both liked to spend most of their time in Erebor's _Library of Thousands of Books_ reading and writing and doing research. Bilbo had often seen the two of them there sitting side by side, but Abodius was usually too absorbed into his books to notice a lone, wandering hobbit to pay him any mind.

The three other healers had such similar features – hooked chins, high cheekbones and long foreheads – that they could be nothing but kin to each other. Their long hair and brown beards were neatly plaited, and as Bilbo watched, one of the brown beards came closer to block everything else from his line of sight.

"Bleeding on the right _musculus armussus_," he heard the mumbled words through the brown beard and someone took a gentle hold of his bleeding arm, lifting it up. Bilbo gritted his teeth against the pain, when pressure was put on his wound to stop the bleeding.

"As well as slight dribble on _the carrotius of the sternum_," added Abodius, while Bilbo was covered with a warm blanket, which was excellent as the market hall felt a lot colder than it had been before and Bilbo was really beginning to shiver in earnest.

"My name is Eneste, Master Baggins," the dwarf closest to Bilbo introduced himself, while his long brown beard tickled Bilbo's face. "I am the head of the Royal Healers. This is Abodius and these two are my cousins, Annen and Golbmâ. All three are among my most trusted, most skillful healers and you can feel assured that we will treat you as well as we can. I must admit that we haven't treated wounds of a being like you before, but we will certainly do our best."

"We hobbits are not that different from dwarves," Bilbo was quick to assure through his gritted teeth, still fighting the pain. "I do believe that you can treat my wounds like you would treat the wounds of any dwarf."

"But be gentle about it," Thorin commanded and the brown beard was withdrawn from Bilbo's face, as Eneste straightened his back. "Hobbits are soft and delicate, and they can break, if you're not very careful."

"We're not _that_ easy to break."

Thorin clenched his jaw at Bilbo's quiet words and turned his head away.

"Don't worry," said Balin soothingly, and even though he put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, Bilbo had an odd feeling he was addressing Thorin such as much as Bilbo. "I know it might not seem like it now, but you will get through this."

"We will use the fifth hauler," Thorin declared and began to march towards the haulers, before anything else could be said.

They did, indeed, use the fifth hauler. It lowered them into the Healing Halls which were located twenty three levels below the market hall. Led by Thorin, the healers carried Bilbo into a chamber made of light blue marble.

There was a beautiful fireplace on one of the walls, Bilbo noted, while the other walls were decorated with diamonds, similar to those in the guarding level. Apparently the diamonds were used for the same lightning purpose as well, as Abodius hurried to twist the largest one of them and the chamber was immediately flooded with light. A soft-looking bed dominated most of the chamber, but there was a tub in one of the corners as well as a wardrobe and a screen on another.

Once Balin had closed the door behind them, the four healers took the lovely blanket away from Bilbo and proceeded to cut Bilbo's clothes off with small sharp knives. While Bilbo was being undressed, Thorin and Balin looked tactfully away, as they well aware of how much hobbits valued their privacy. Bilbo was put into the tub someone had already filled with warm water and with something that smelt of spruce but smarted his skin, especially his injured parts, very unpleasantly.

"The rohto potion," Eneste explained to Bilbo's arm, as the four healers studied the cricket bite under the water, once they had taken the bandages away. "Prevents wounds from getting infected and staunches the flow of blood, so that we can stitch up the wounds more easily. For some reason, it works particularly well when one has to deal with kamalas' poison, but you will still have to stay in the water for quite some time for the rohto to have any effect, Master Baggins."

"Uh, yes," Bilbo said, squirming a bit – he didn't like bathing in front of an audience at all. "Thank you. I will keep that in mind."

"Drink this," Abodius said and lifted a cup to Bilbo's lips. "It will bring you dreamless sleep. It will also take some of the pain away."

Bilbo was quite tired, wasn't he, and so drank, as he was going to fall asleep sooner or later anyway. After spending time with kamalas, he did indeed prefer to keep his sleep dreamless. The liquid tasted like nettle tea with a hint of cinnamon and something Bilbo couldn't quite describe other than "bitter". It wasn't particularly good but neither was it that bad.

Abodius gave him a satisfied nod, once he was finished with the drink, and the healers stood up, making room for Thorin who had been waiting impatiently to get closer to the tub. As soon as the healers had stood up and moved out of the way, Thorin was kneeling by the tub, rolling up his sleeves with stiff, jerky movements. Before Bilbo knew it, Thorin was washing the veripartah off his face in a careful manner.

"If it feels unpleasant," Thorin muttered, loud enough just for Bilbo's ears, "tell me so and I'll go away."

"It's fine," Bilbo said, because he didn't want Thorin to leave, not just yet anyway.

They avoided each other's gaze, Bilbo and Thorin, and Bilbo, more tense and aware of his body than ever, sank deeper into the rohto water, wishing he had something he could have covered himself with, even though Thorin wasn't looking at his body but focusing his gaze on a spot somewhere below Bilbo's left ear.

It wasn't until a while later that Bilbo, with a start, came to thought about the Ring.

How could he have just let the Ring in the guarding level! What if one of the kamalas had managed to put it on and was now invisible, attacking oblivious dwarves who wouldn't know where the poisonous slime kept coming from, who would have _no clue_ as of where the cricket had disappeared to?

"The Ring!" Bilbo gasped, spilling water onto the floor and on Thorin, as he sat up straighter. "Thorin, you'll have to go back to the guarding level and get my ring back!"

"I have another task to attend to, if it has managed to escape your notice," Thorin said gruffly, his wet hands rubbing the sticky blood off Bilbo's cheeks. "There are plenty of rings in Erebor and you can have any one of them – or several of them, if you'd rather – as well as as much gold as you like. As soon as you are healed enough to travel, Kili and a company of my best warriors will take you back to the Shire. I will not talk to you, or even leave my chambers, until you have left. In return, I only ask that you don't say the words out loud, so that we can part in friendship. I simply couldn't bear to hear them. If you care for me at all, _do not_ say them."

It took a moment for Bilbo to grasp the meaning of Thorin's words. When he finally did, Bilbo almost choked, too shocked to speak. Thorin wanted him gone? Thorin was so livid with him that he wanted Bilbo to leave Erebor and go back to the Shire? And what 'words', exactly, was Thorin talking about?

Bilbo had known his deeds had been awful, but he had thought, assumed, _believed_ that Thorin would have been willing to work through the consequences with him. Bilbo had never thought Thorin would have wanted him to actually leave.

"Am I b-ba..." Bilbo began, closing his eyes for the gentle hands on his face burnt his heart, made his soul ache.

"Am I b-banished from Erebor?" he finally managed, opening his eyes to face the reality.

The hands on his face stilled their movement.

"Banished?" Thorin repeated, sounding almost as questioning as appalled, finally meeting Bilbo's gaze.

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin's eyes were sad and full of resignation, even if somewhere behind it all there was the familiar blazing, the icy fury.

"Why in Aulë would you be banished?"

"For everything I've done today."

"For everything you've done today," Thorin repeated slowly, his voice oddly toneless, as he withdrew his hand from Bilbo's face. "For everything _you've_ done today. No, halfling... It certainly isn't you that has done 'everything' today."

Thorin stood up and turned away from Bilbo, shaking his head a bit as if to clear it.

Bilbo didn't really have time to wonder his friend's behaviour, as sleep began to weigh on his eyelids, the potion the healers had made him drink beginning to kick in. Bilbo blinked to clear his vision.

"My ring," he said, even as his eyes were already closing. "You need to go get... my ring, Thorin. It is very... very, very important that you do, because..."

He was fast asleep before he had managed to finish the sentence.

Bilbo might have drowned in the tub in his sleep, sliding deeper into the water as he was, hadn't a pair of strong arms hurried to keep him above the waterline.

The arms didn't let go, until the healers finally declared the rohto had served its purpose and Bilbo could be put in the bed under the warm patchwork quilt.

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**Bilbo gets carried quite a bit in this fic, doesn't he.  
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**Thank you for all your reviews! I've been a bit busy with school and stuff, but thought I'd update anyway. I hope you liked the chapter!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A bit longer chapter as requested by SherlockedinErebor. Sorry for the long wait!**

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The gentle notes of the musical box were like soft dewdrops, beautiful and slightly wistful, full of memories and untold stories. They coaxed Bilbo into awakening, asking to be heard, asking to be listened to. With a soft sigh, Bilbo turned his head towards the beautiful sounds and opened his eyes.

Blinking groggily, Bilbo saw Fili was who sitting next to his bed listening to the sounds of Bilbo's musical box. Fili was holding the musical box in his lap, while tilting back his chair with his feet lifted carelessly on the edge of Bilbo's bed. Even though Fili was wearing a pair of _horridly filthy boots_ on the feet he was resting on top of the _white clean sheets_, Bilbo had no heart to call Fili's attention to it, as the prince was looking noticeably worn and miserable.

Recalling everything that had happened with Gur and the kamalas, Bilbo regarded Fili carefully. There were dark circles under Fili's eyes and the tight set of his jaws reminded Bilbo of Thorin when the king was exhausted but too stubborn to get some well-deserved rest because of "matters of importance, halfling, do not concern yourself so". Still, as far as Bilbo could tell, Fili didn't have any corroded skin or other injuries, which was truly a great relief. Whatever had happened with the crickets after Thorin had taken Bilbo away, at least one of the young princes had been left uninjured. Now Bilbo just wanted – _needed_ – to know that they were both fine.

"Where's Kili?" Bilbo croaked and sat up abruptly, startling Fili into yelping and falling backwards in his tilted chair.

The musical box slipped out of the prince's hold and ended up on its side on the floor, while Fili did a backwards somersault and sprang to his feet to stand in a defensive stance. With his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, Fili looked around the healing chamber as if looking for potential threats.

The embers glowed in the fireplace, causing the lighting diamonds to twinkle on the blue marble walls like hundreds of small stars. The tub had been emptied, Bilbo noted, and someone had dried the spilled water off the floor, but apart from Bilbo and Fili, there was no-one in the chamber, no threatening beings or otherwise.

Feeling sheepish for having given the tired prince such a start, Bilbo cleared his throat, causing the sharp gaze to land on him.

"I'm sorry, Fili. I didn't mean to startle you," Bilbo croaked, surprising himself with how hoarse his voice sounded.

His throat was dry and he had to cough, even though the act didn't feel pleasant at all and actually burnt his throat quite a bit. Fili stepped to the nightstand to pour him a cup of water, while simultaneously reaching a hand to tug at the silver spring attached to the wall. It was a bell, Bilbo knew, designed to alarm the healers when a patient woke up or needed help.

"You certainly gave me quite a start by springing up like that," Fili mused, handing the filled water cup to Bilbo who took it gratefully. "Although I am, of course, happy that you finally woke up, as it appears that undiluted sleeping draught is enough to knock a hobbit out for a good few days, a lot longer than-"

"A good few, ugh, _days_?" Bilbo coughed, accidentally spilling some water on the grey, coarse nightgown someone had put on him while he had been sleeping. "You're not saying I've been sleeping for _days_, are you?"

"Indeed I am. And yes, Bilbo, you have. You've slept for two days and three nights, to be precise. We were starting to get worried, some more expressively than others. But you haven't really missed anything of importance, so don't faint or get alarmed. Just – keep on breathing and stay calm."

"I'm not going to faint!" Bilbo claimed hotly, although he did feel somewhat dizzy, thinking about all the time he had wasted by sleeping dreamlessly.

While Fili picked up the musical box from the floor and placed it next to Bilbo onto the bed, Bilbo sipped his water and tried to focus on the things that actually mattered.

"By my toes, Fili," he swore, "why isn't Kili with you? You're always together! Kili wasn't injured by the kamalas, was he? He's not hurt, is he?"

"Hurt?" Fili chuckled, as he brought the fallen chair into an upright position and took his seat on it once more (he didn't, thankfully, lift his feet onto Bilbo's bed again). "None of our warriors were hurt by the kamalas, and neither was Kili, although I suppose one could say that Kili is actually as good as dead."

Seeing Bilbo's wary look, Fili sighed and defined, " And by 'as good as dead' I naturally mean 'bored to death but otherwise fine'. Kili is currently participating in _the Royal Hearing Hour_ 'on the orders of the king'. Listening to all the complaints and foolish arguments between our people is supposed to teach him to hold his tongue, but I could put a bet on my _beard_ that he w-"

Fili cut himself off with his eyes suddenly widening. Then, blinking furiously, he lowered his head in a regretful manner.

"Forgive me, Bilbo," he said quietly, addressing his thighs. "That was very thoughtless and inconsiderate of me. I shouldn't have said that. Perhaps I should join my brother in _the Hearing Hour_ to learn to consider my words more carefully."

Hadn't Bilbo known the young dwarf as well as he did, he might have been confused by Fili's behaviour. Now, though, he simply sighed to himself, feeling almost as amused as he was chagrined, as he looked at Fili with exasperated affection.

"It's very thoughtful and considerate of you to think that you should apologize for mentioning your beard in my presence," Bilbo sighed, "but you don't need to apologize. Really, Fili, we hobbits don't care about facial hair as much as you dwarves do, so the veripartah I was given didn't have much of an effect on me. I did find the experience rather disgusting, but now that the blood has been washed off my face, I am fine."

Fili didn't look convinced at all.

"Your violators have paid for what they did. There are no more kamalas in Erebor, as we killed them all. They cannot hurt you anymore, Bilbo, so fear not."

Even though Bilbo didn't think the crickets had deserved to die, he couldn't help the unexpected wave of relief that hit him after hearing Fili's words. It was a calming thought, knowing he would never again have to hear the threatening sounds of palps snapping together, or see the quivering antennae reaching towards him, or fear the poisonous green slime corroding his skin.

The relief only made Bilbo feel more guilty for all that he had caused.

"Do you know if Thorin found my ring?" Bilbo asked, because if there was even one invisible vengeful cricket running around Erebor waiting for an opportunity to attack someone worth attacking – someone like the King Under the Mountain, or one of the Princes Under the Mountain – it was vital that Thorin was informed about it as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Fili could put Bilbo's mind at ease.

"Yes, he found it," the prince said and Bilbo let out a sigh of relief, the images of his friends' corroded faces vanishing from his mind with a silent puff. "He picked it up and put it into his pocket when he came to inspect the guarding level after bringing you here to heal."

Bilbo put his empty water cup onto the nightstand next to a decorative water jug. He opened his mouth, a hesitant question already forming on his lips. He wanted to ask after Thorin. Where was Thorin? Was he still furious enough to keep his distance to Bilbo, or had he been in the healing chamber to see Bilbo while Bilbo had been sleeping? Thorin had every right to be angry with Bilbo, but surely they were still friends, at least? Surely their friendship wasn't lost?

Bilbo didn't doubt Fili would have tried to give him the answers, but the trouble was Bilbo didn't know whether he wanted to hear the answers or not. What if Thorin still _was_ furious enough to send Bilbo away? What if he _was_ upset enough not to want to see Bilbo again? What if Thorin _didn't_ want to be Bilbo's friend anymore? If those were the kind of answers Bilbo would get, perhaps he was better off never hearing them for they would certainly break his heart. Perhaps if he didn't hear them, he could cherish the memory of what could have been to lessen the pain of what he had ruined.

The mildly curious, slightly haughty look on Fili's face was so similar to the one Bilbo had so often seen on Thorin's face that the questions Bilbo desperately wanted to ask came out before he managed to stop himself.

"Will Thorin be coming to see me? Has he been here at all after I fell asleep?"

To Bilbo's utter surprise, Fili's face went completely blank.

"I would have thought," Fili said after a while, not quite meeting Bilbo's eyes, "that your opinion of my uncle would have been higher after everything the two of you have been together, no matter what the last few days have been like. But since you asked: no, Thorin hasn't been here, nor will he come here. I swear on my life that Thorin hasn't spent any time with you unattended while you have been sleeping. My uncle would _never_ sneak into your chamber to... take anything that wouldn't be willingly given, so please refrain from suggesting things like that in the future."

"I wasn't s-suggesting anything," Bilbo spluttered, appalled at what Fili was apparently hinting at. "I would never suggest that Thorin would just come in here and- and _have his way with me_, while I was unconscious! I know he wouldn't do something like that – he's not a monster – he's my friend!"

Witnessing Bilbo's vehemence, Fili had at least the sense to look repentant, even though the prince's eyes were still narrowed and his chin raised in offence on behalf of his uncle.

"I was just asking," Bilbo said in a calmer manner, "whether Thorin is still angry enough with me to want to keep his distance, or whether I could go to talk to him, whether he would be willing to see me. The last time we talked, he wanted to send me back to the Shire and I don't-"

"You think that uncle _wants to_ send you back to the Shire?" Fili interrupted, his narrowed eyes opening and growing suddenly sharper. "You think that _Thorin_ _wants you to leave_?"

"Well, yes. He made it clear, he said as m-"

"But Thorin certainly does _not_ want you to leave!" Fili huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "My uncle is desperate for you to stay, even though he is too honourable to ever say that out loud. He hates the thought of you leaving! The only reason why he's making arrangements for you to leave is because he thinks that leaving Erebor is what _you_ want."

Bilbo gaped at Fili. Perhaps it was the words or Fili's incredulous, self-assured manner that sowed a seed of hope in Bilbo's heart, but whatever the reason, Bilbo felt suddenly a lot more hopeful, a lot more confident that not all was lost, that perhaps he and Thorin could still work things out, even after everything Bilbo had done – if Bilbo could forgive Thorin for waging a war over a stone, then, perhaps, Thorin could be forgiving, too.

"Why does Thorin think that I would want to leave Erebor?" Bilbo had to ask.

Now it was Fili's turn to gape and gape he did. For a while, he looked at Bilbo like Bilbo had suddenly lost all his common sense, like Bilbo had just turned into a troll, or a human or even an elf, before suddenly his eyes flashed, as if he had just realized something very important.

"Bilbo..." Fili said slowly, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward in a concentrated manner, "have you ever heard of _the Five Tasks of the Worthy_?"

Bilbo had not and he said as much.

"Never?" Fili pressed, studying Bilbo's face closely. "Are you certain? My uncle never mentioned them to you?"

Bilbo shook his head, perplexed but curious. Thorin had never mentioned anything about the Five Tasks of the Worthy to Bilbo. Judging from the way a slow grin spread on Fili's face, the fact mattered, somehow.

"That explains a lot," Fili mused, grinning at Bilbo, all white teeth and twinkling eyes. "Very typical of Thorin not to bother to explain things. Did you know my brother was _eight_, before Thorin finally got around to explain to him that that he wasn't actually a girl, even though people called him pretty? Poor Kili was so confused... But anyway, the Five Tasks of the Worthy is a traditional dwarven way of courting. As you weren't aware of that, I should probably ask: did you know that Thorin has been trying to win your affections for about four months now?"

Affections? Thorin had been courting Bilbo? For _four months_?

The question caught Bilbo completely off-guard. Bilbo sputtered, trying to give Fili some kind of an answer, though answering turned out to be quite difficult, as his brain was suddenly filled up with memories – memories of Thorin spending _days_ by making Bilbo a musical box, just because Bilbo happened to mention that he'd like to have one – memories of Thorin asking if Bilbo would come and read him to sleep – of Thorin singing him songs – of Thorin leaning close to whisper in his ear, his lips brushing Bilbo's ear _just so_ – of Thorin staring at him with dark eyes when he thought Bilbo wasn't looking – of Thorin giving him those small, secret smiles...

Bilbo took the musical box in his hand and looked at it, deep in thought, running his fingers along the skillfully carved decorations. One of the carvings was about a club smashing a bleeding heart, which – to dwarves – was a symbol of longing, of love. How hadn't Bilbo noted the carving before?

"Has he really?" Bilbo asked eventually, even though he already knew the answer.

How could he have not realized that Thorin, _his_ Thorin, had been courting him? How could Bilbo have not noticed Thorin courting him when he had been harbouring similar thoughts himself, thoughts of Thorin and him being together, thoughts of Thorin and him together?

"Oh, he certainly has," Fili chuckled and winked.

A loud knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

The door was pushed open and Eneste entered the chamber, followed by six dwarves Bilbo couldn't remember seeing ever before. Looking at Fili and Bilbo, the six dwarves gave silent bows in a way of greeting. They all looked solemn but not unkind, grave but sympathetic. They were of different heights and sizes, some wearing simple clothes with modest light brown shirts and leather boots, while two of them, the oldest ones, were covered with silver and sapphires from head to toe. They didn't look like healers, not really, but Bilbo assumed they were such anyway, considering the way they were following the Head of the Royal Healers into healing chambers.

"Ahh, Prince Fili and Master Baggins," Eneste made his own greetings, even though he was already by Bilbo's side, stretching Bilbo's eyelids and feeling Bilbo's wrist for a heartbeat. "Nice to see you have finally woken up, Master Baggins. You have been sleeping for quite a while due to an unfortunate miscalculation that happened when my healers were measuring out your sleeping draught. I sincerely apologize for all the trouble we have caused to you. As stated earlier, we have no experience in treating hobbits, a fact of which you were given an unfortunate demonstration."

"No need to apologize," Bilbo assured awkwardly, feeling terribly uncomfortable with the way Eneste was studying the insides of his lower eyelids. "No-one could have known how a hobbit would react to a dwarvish sleeping draught. At least I'm still alive. I blame you for nothing."

"Good to know," Eneste said, letting go off Bilbo, apparently satisfied with whatever he had seen in the eyelids. "Still, as the Head of the Royal Healers, I will take full responsibility, if there are consequences."

"That's very honourable, Master Eneste, but I don't think that will be necessary."

Bilbo hoped that the healers would finish their examinations quickly and leave, so that he and Fili could continue their discussion about Thorin. Thorin had been courting him – _Thorin had been courting him!_ – and Bilbo wished he hadn't gone and ruined it all with his recent actions. Perhaps Fili could help him to mend the situation? And what were the Five Tasks of the Worthy? Did they have something to do with the way Thorin had been so insistent about protecting Bilbo? If so, had Bilbo shown Thorin terrible disrespect by challenging him, by running off like he had?

Eneste interrupted his worried musings.

"You must have noticed these dwarves that I brought with me."

Eneste glanced behind his back and the six dwarves stepped forward to surround Bilbo's bed by each side. They casted a shadow on Bilbo, looming over him with their arms crossed across their chests. Well, the smallest one of them – a tiny dwarf with a golden beard as long as he was himself – wasn't looming or casting any shadows on Bilbo, but standing on his tiptoes to see Bilbo better from all the pillows.

"These six dwarves," Eneste said and Bilbo looked politely at the dwarves in question, "have all been through the same experience that you have."

Surprised, Bilbo studied the six dwarves more closely.

"You all have been captured by the kamalas?"

The dwarves gave him a blank look and Eneste cleared his throat, reaching a hand to close Bilbo's musical box, thus cutting off the Lullaby of Mother Mountain mid-note.

"Uh, no, Master Baggins," Eneste said, furrowing his red brow. "These are _The Empathizers and the Sympathizers of the Victims of the Veripartah._ They have all been given a veripartah, just like you, and thus they can understand what you are now going through."

"It is an honour to try to help you, Master Baggins," said one of the six dwarves, the oldest-looking one, in a sad and sympathetic voice. "We want to help others who have to face the same thing we have been through. We want you to know that you will get through this humiliation, even if it might not feel like it now. We want you to know that _the_ _beard grows back_."

"Perhaps I should go," Fili suggested, meeting Bilbo's gaze. "It might be easier for you to talk about your v... v-veripartah, if I wasn't here..."

"No, no, you don't need to leave," Bilbo hurried to say, while the Empathizers and the Sympathizers of the Victims of the Veripartah gave Fili approving nods.

"I'll go give my uncle a visit," Fili decided, standing up and giving Bilbo a polite bow. "I'll explain him... certain matters and then the two of you can kiss and hug, or whatever it is that you wish to do. Spare me the details."

With that, Fili was gone and flushing Bilbo was left alone with Eneste and the Empathizers and the Sympathizers of the Victims of the Veripartah who took Fili's departure as their sign to sit on the edge of Bilbo's bed.

"My name is Lord Jidil," the oldest one of the dwarves introduced himself, the sapphires on his chest sparkling beautifully. "I was given a veripartah by my father just because he didn't like my beard, I never had a good relationship with him, as you might have guessed... These are my friends – Eref, Teref, Tilli, Talli and Lord Snapper."

The five dwarves nodded at Bilbo when their names were called.

"At your service," they said as one, once all of them had been introduced.

Troubled, Bilbo watched the The Empathizers and the Sympathizers of the Victims of Veripartah around him, not quite certain what he should have said or done. He didn't want to be impolite, but he really didn't need a support group for dealing with the whole veripartah ordeal. Honestly, of all the things he had faced in the hands of Gur, the veripartah was definitely not the worst. It had been rather a disgusting experience, yes, but not so horrible that he would need to share his feelings of it with strangers.

"I think," Bilbo began hesitantly and the dwarves around him leaned closer, as if they were determined to hear every syllable of what he wanted to say, "I think that, um, that you should probably know that, well, that the thing is that I'm a, uh, that I'm a hobbit, and to us hobbits beards are simply not that... meaningful. I was given a veripartah, yes, but I'm really not that upset about it, to be honest."

"Denial," declared the dwarf called Teref with a curt nod, grasping his leather belt with both of his hands. "Denial is familiar to all of us. It's a natural part of the process, Master Baggins. I denied the loss of my beard for such a long time that when I finally admitted what had happened to me, the beard had already grown back."

"Uh, no, this is not denial," Bilbo tried to explain. "You see, as a hobbit, I simply cannot grow a beard. But it's very nice that your beard grew back in the end."

"I, too, thought my beard would never grow back," the tiny Tilli piped in, "but it did, and I believe yours will too, Master Baggins."

"No, it- I haven't... I've never had a beard to begin with, so there really is nothing that can grow 'back'."

"It's perfectly natural of you to claim things like that," Lord Jidil assured, frowning a bit. "As Teref said, you are going through denial. At this stage, you shouldn't be alarmed by your own feelings, no matter what they are like. Whatever feelings you have, they are all justified and can be dealed with."

It took several hours before Eneste and the _The Empathizers and the Sympathizers of the Victims of __Veripartah_ finally left. They only agreed to leave after Bilbo – feeling frustrated – lied and said that, yes, he was devastated by not having a beard and, by Mahal, having been given a veripartah had been a terribly humiliating experience. The dwarves praised him for admitting "the difficult truth", promising to come to meet him again, their voices full of sympathy and understanding. Then they left, leaving a bowl full of cold carrot soup behind for Bilbo to eat.

Feeling quite miserable, Bilbo spooned up the cold soup.

After eating, Bilbo saw no reason to stay in the Healing Halls any longer, as his arm wasn't hurting that much and he wasn't tired anymore. He threw his quilt aside and got out of the bed, before padding along to the screen where someone had left him some of his clothes – clean and warm and with the familiar scent. Grateful, Bilbo took off the coarse nightgown and pulled on his own pants and his own shirt.

He buttoned up his waistcoat carefully, before putting on the belt Thorin had given him. For a moment, Bilbo fretted about the lack of a mirror on which he could have made sure he looked presentable, but after a quick glance in the back of the spoon and after combing his waving hair with his fingers, Bilbo was satisfied enough to leave the chamber.

He had a king to meet, after all.

With his musical box tucked carefully under his arm, Bilbo pulled the door open – and was hit in the nose by a large fist.

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**This chapter was a bit challenging to write, so it would be nice to hear your thoughts! :)**

**A couple of chapters to go.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I + my skis + an unexpected steep slope covered with ice instead of snow = me flying down the slope like an awkward moose + a broken ski boot + some bruises and a hurting wrist = a part of the reason why it has taken me some time to write this chapter :D**

**Thank you for your reviews! I find it difficult to read my own stories, so it's nice to know what other people think about them. ****I've read all the feedback you've given me and the fact that you are still reading is the main reason why I'm still writing this fic. So yeah, thanks! ****:)**

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The impact of the blow took Bilbo completely off guard and thus managed to send him a couple of faltering steps backwards.

"_Zakhrot_," swore a familiar voice, while Bilbo felt blood, wet and warm, running down his philtrum.

Fumbling about in his pocket for a handkerchief, Bilbo raised his head to look up at the large figure standing on the other side of the threshold.

Thorin was standing stock still with his right fist still raised from knocking Bilbo's nose. His mouth was opening and closing like he was desperate to say something but not quite able to gather his thoughts to form the words. Had Thorin looked – even in the slightest – like he had hit Bilbo on purpose, Bilbo would have scolded the king so loudly the Healing Halls would have echoed with his yells. Now, though, as there was nothing but surprise and heartbreak on Thorin's face, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to shout. Instead, Bilbo was quick to take in the situation and conclude that him getting hit had been rather an unfortunate and regretful accident: when Bilbo had wrenched the door open, Thorin had been just about to knock on it and, thus, Thorin's knocking fist had caught Bilbo in the face.

Bilbo's conclusion was confirmed a few heartbeats later when Thorin began to talk.

"Uh, h-hobbit..." Thorin said in a choked voice. "My intention was not to hit you and I apologize for doing so. I was trying to _knock on the door_, but your appearance was so sudden and unexpected, and I wasn't- I never meant to- I _wouldn't_-"

"It's fine," Bilbo assured, offering Thorin a pained smile which must have looked more like a bloody grimace, judging from the way Thorin winced. "Don't worry about it, Thorin. It was an accident. Neither one of us is that good at using doors, it seems. You should be more cautious when knocking on them and I should be more cautious when locking them and throwing their keys away..."

His words didn't seem to comfort Thorin, as the king looked, if possible, even more crushed. At the sight of his dear friend's misery, Bilbo felt his heart break, just a little, and so he stepped over the threshold to stand closer to Thorin in a comforting manner. Thorin hurried to straighten his back to poise in a more regal stance, although the upset look in his eyes still remained. Shaking his head like he was refusing to believe that he had just hit Bilbo hard enough to draw blood, Thorin opened his raised fist and let his trembling hand hover near Bilbo's cheek, not quite touching but obviously longing to.

It was difficult to say which one of them was more shocked – Bilbo at having been hit or Thorin at hitting Bilbo by accident.

Dwarves in the Healing Halls were giving them curious, speculating looks. Some of the dwarves were shameless and daring enough to edge closer, step by step, as if they were trying to hear every word exchanged between their king and his hobbit friend. Bilbo huffed to himself, glaring at the approaching dwarves who all seemed to think that they were cunning and imperceptible enough to go unnoticed, which they certainly _were not_. Bilbo wouldn't have minded a bit of curiosity, not really, but most dwarves were terrible gossips and Bilbo just knew that whatever the listening dwarves now heard would be greatly exaggerated and then told to everyone who had ears. Come evening, the whole of Erebor would be familiar with the _private_ conversation between Thorin and Bilbo, and Bilbo didn't like the thought at all.

Bilbo cleared his throat and gave their audience a meaningful look. Thorin narrowed his eyes and followed Bilbo's gaze, letting his raised hand fall limply to his side. Noticing the closely listening dwarves, he let out a deep growl which seemed to be enough to chase the potential gossips away, as the dwarves surrounding them twirled around and escape from their glowering king.

When Thorin and Bilbo were relatively alone, Bilbo found it easier to breathe, even though warm blood trickled over his lips and down his chin, running down his neck to smear the front of his shirt. Sighing to himself (blood was almost impossible to wash off), Bilbo held the handkerchief more firmly to his nose. An uncomfortable silence had fallen between the two of them and Bilbo found himself mulling over his anxious thoughts.

Which one of them was supposed to break the silence? Should Bilbo begin by apologizing for everything he had caused, or should he wait for Thorin to say something? Were they going to discuss about the Five Tasks of the Worthy, about the courting, or should those not be mentioned after everything that had happened? Perhaps they should wait until Bilbo's nose wasn't bleeding, before they had their conversation? Was there even going to be a conversation – what if Fili had been wrong about Thorin wanting Bilbo to stay in Erebor? What if Thorin had only come to meet Bilbo to make Bilbo's banishment official?

Thorin cleared his throat, breaking into Bilbo's thoughts.

"I..." Thorin breathed, bowing his head a bit. "I understand that I shouldn't have come here, there is no need to remind me of that. I can see it all too clearly, as your delicate nose is now bleeding because of me. I have harmed you and shown complete disregard of the highly regarded traditions..."

Thorin's breaths were coming out as ragged gasps, and when Bilbo looked closely enough, he could see, to his alarm, that the dark eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Thorin was _shaking_, and Bilbo now knew with certainty which one of them was more shocked by the turn of the events – he at getting hit or Thorin at hitting him. The sight of Thorin's misery made Bilbo's eyes moisten and he hugged the musical box tighter against his chest.

"But worry not, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin continued, before Bilbo managed to find his voice to say anything, "for I will not pester you again. I will stay in my chambers, until you have left, so that you won't feel harassed. If there is anything you wish for, let Balin or one of my nephews know and they will see that your wish is granted."

"I wish to stay in Erebor!" Bilbo blurted out and a lonely tear trickled down his cheek. "I love you and your nephews and Bofur and... and everyone, and it would break my heart to leave you. I wish to stay in Erebor, Thorin, if at all possible. If you can... if you can forgive me."

It apparently took Thorin a moment to understand Bilbo's words, but when he realized their true meaning, he fixed Bilbo with a look of wary, new-found hope. Bilbo was taken aback by the level of intensity in his friend's gaze, but the pure hope on Thorin's face planted a seed of hope in Bilbo's heart: if Thorin looked that hopeful at the thought of Bilbo not wanting to leave, then perhaps Fili had really been right when he had claimed that Thorin wanted Bilbo to stay in Erebor. If that was the case, then perhaps... maybe...

"You wish to _stay_," Thorin repeated. "After everything, you would still like to live in Erebor?"

Thorin's voice was thick with some unnamed emotion and Bilbo felt suddenly shy and very self-conscious. He lowered his gaze from Thorin's face to the level of the goldwork embroidered stand-up collar on Thorin's tunic. He could see Thorin's gaffer's bump bobbing up and down with every swallow Thorin took and the sight of it was quite mesmerizing, even under the circumstances.

"Yes," Bilbo whispered, "I would like to live in Erebor, if only you let me."

Thorin released a shaky breath.

"If you truly wish so, it would be a great honour to have you live in Erebor, Bilbo Baggins."

A gentle hand brushed Bilbo's cheek, taking the lone tear with it, and the seed of hope in Bilbo's heart grew and blossomed into relief. Thorin was willing to let Bilbo stay, Thorin even claimed to be _honoured_ to have him living in Erebor! It seemed that Thorin could be forgiving and that they could work through it all, even after everything Bilbo had done and caused.

So relieved Bilbo was that he let all the love and care and affection he felt for Thorin gather into his eyes, before he met his friend's gaze. It must have been quite a look he gave to Thorin, as Thorin inhaled sharply, looking suddenly dazed, spellbound, as he stared into Bilbo's eyes.

It might not have been the proper place for apologies, but it certainly was the high time for them, as Bilbo simply couldn't take it any longer – he just _had to_ apologize properly, had to clear the air between them.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," he said, causing Thorin to blink, even though the king was still focused on staring deep into his eyes. "I am truly sorry for rushing off in the middle of dinner and making you chase after me. After everything you and I have been through together, I should have shown you more respect. I behaved rashly and I never considered the consequences of my actions. It is my fault that Gur and the kamalas are now dead, and I am terribly sorry for all that I have caused."

At the mention of Gur and kamalas, Thorin gave a little start and seemed to snap out of whatever it was that had made him stare at Bilbo the way he had. With his face darkening, the king let out a snarl.

"Do not _dare_ to feel sorry for the kamalas, halfling," Thorin grumbled, glaring at Bilbo. "And _never_ be sorry for that sorry excuse of a dwarf, Gur – may his name be cursed and soon forgotten. They certainly deserved to die and I only regret that I couldn't make their deaths more painful. In the addition of tormenting you and toying with me by making me watch you being violated, the kamalas have done a lot of harm to Erebor during the time they have spent here. Ever since they sneaked into the mountain during my grandfather's reign, the kamalas have snatched and eaten several dwarlings, leaving just their gnawed little bones behind for the parents to find."

"_What?_" Bilbo gasped, staring at Thorin with horror.

He recalled the song the kamalas had sung when they had first carried him away,

_"We hate dwarves_

_and we hate their king._

_The only good dwarf_

_is an eaten dwarfling:_

_their flesh is soft_

_and they bleed when they die._

_We, lovely crickets,_

_live to make dwarves cry."_

How many dwarflings had died in the palps of the kamalas? How many had been torn apart? It must have been _numerous_ for the kamalas to have made a song about it.

Feeling sick and aghast at the thought of defenceless, chubby-cheeked dwarlings calling for their mums, while their flesh was being cut by ruthless palps, Bilbo had to gasp for air.

"That's _horrible_!"

"Horrible, indeed," Thorin agreed grimly, "and quite unforgivable. The plans to destroy the colony were already done and we would have attacked the kamalas in a few days in any case hadn't you sped up our plans. Do not feel regret, Bilbo, as the kamalas and their leader certainly deserved their fate."

Perhaps they had, Bilbo had to agree. If the kamalas really had killed and eaten dwarlings, then Erebor was certainly better off without the giant crickets.

"But they weren't the same crickets, were they," he still had to point out. "It was their parents, or their grandparents, or their great grandparents that sneaked into Erebor. No cricket can live for as long as a dwarf, can they, so these kamalas couldn't have killed any dwarflings yet, as there were no dwarflings in Erebor during their time."

"I find _indescribably unpleasant_ that you are trying to defend the kamalas ," Thorin snapped, furrowing his brow in a display of discontent. "Refrain from doing such irritating things in the future, hobbit, as you are already infuriating enough.

Bilbo huffed, annoyed at being called "infuriating" when it was _Thorin_ who was infuriating. To Bilbo's further annoyance, Thorin ignored Bilbo's annoyed huffs.

"'These kamalas'", the king continued instead, "might not have yet attacked any dwarflings, but it would have been only a matter of time before they would have begun to do so, as it seems that they had enjoyed human flesh as a substitute for dwarven flesh. We found mortal remains of at least fifty eight human children yesterday. When asked, the River people informed me that, during the last few decades, 'giant crickets' had managed to capture and take many of their children into the mountain. The men didn't know what had come off the children, as their fear of Smaug had prevented them from following the little ones inside the mountain, but now that we have the gnawed bones we know for a fact that the children were eaten, possibly alive."

Those poor, poor children!

Bilbo thought how one of the kamalas had been named after a human called Albert. How old had Albert been when the crickets had eaten him? Not that old, Bilbo could imagine.

"The bones of the children will be naturally taken to the River people for a proper, honourable burning. It seems that the children were desperate to fight for their lives, as we found many small knives with broken blades among to bones, all covered with dried slime..."

Bilbo's struggles against the kamalas had been unavailing, so it was regrettably easy to assume that none of the children had managed to escape, no matter how much of a fight they had put up against the kamalas. Bilbo could see it in his mind – small fists hitting the green unyielding shells – crying children struggling desperately with no means of an escape, without any hope of survival – red blood gushing out, as the palps tore into soft skin... There had been no Thorin to save them, and so the children had very likely suffered a death similar to Gur's.

Except for that they had been eaten afterwards, possibly alive.

Suddenly it was difficult for Bilbo to breathe and he fumbled for the wall for support.

"I think I should sit down for a while," he said dizzily and Thorin stiffened.

It wasn't until Bilbo had listened to the frantic pounding of Thorin's heart for quite a while that he realized that he had, in fact, stepped forward and was now leaning against _Thorin_ instead of the wall. Thorin was completely motionless against him and apparently holding his breath. Bilbo felt his cheeks heat up and he pushed himself quickly away from Thorin's chest.

There were bloodstains on Thorin's tunic and Bilbo hold his bleeding nose more firmly.

"Er..." said Bilbo, which might not have been the cleverest thing to say but was all that Bilbo could come up with, flustered and anxious as he was.

"Um..." he then added, because of course he would have to somehow explain why he had suddenly decided to use _the King Under the Mountain_ as his _rest_.

The bitter irony taste found its way pass Bilbo's opened lips into his gaping mouth. Bilbo spat the blood on his handkerchief, as he couldn't, as a respectable hobbit, just spit on the floor like dwarves.

"I'm sorry for smearing your shirt," he then apologized to Thorin, trying to sound as sincere as he was. "I think I should now go and ask someone take a look at my nose, but would it be fine with you, if I came later to your chambers to talk? Or would you prefer to... take some distance from me?"

"No," Thorin said firmly, looking up from the bloodstains on his chest. "An infuriating hobbit is always welcome to my chambers, as long as he's you. But do not feel obligated to humour me, Bilbo – I may be the king, but I wouldn't use my power to force you into keeping me any kind of company."

"You're not forcing me into anything," Bilbo assured. "And if you were, I would yell at you until you weren't."

Thorin winced.

"I strongly dislike it when you yell at me."

Bilbo gave Thorin a small, conciliating smile, a smile that was hesitantly returned. After a moment of mutual smiling, Bilbo turned away from his friend and went to look for Abodius, his heart full of relief at being allowed to stay in Erebor and sadness on behalf of the victims of the kamalas. He felt Thorin's eyes on his back all the way to the Main Corner of the Healers, but then – after a cautious knock on the door – he entered Abodius' working chamber and disappeared from Thorin's sight.

A while later when Abodius was jamming tupas wool into Bilbo's nostrils, muttering absent-mindedly about "contradictions of water treatment" and the "complications of using salva ointment" with a faraway look in his eyes, Bilbo thought about his magic ring. Where was it? Did Thorin still have it? Had Thorin found out about its power to turn its wearer invisible? If he had, surely Thorin would give the Ring back to Bilbo instead of wanting to keep it himself?

Bilbo frowned thoughtfully, letting his eyes travel around the cramped chamber just in case Thorin had actually followed him into the chamber wearing the Ring.

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**A virtual lollipop for your thoughts. :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for your reviews! :) They are my fuel. Sorry it took so long to update!**

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When his nose stopped bleeding and Abodius finally gave him the permission to leave, Bilbo hurried to make his way back to his own chambers. Once there, he took off his bloodstained shirt and changed into a clean loose-fitting one. After putting the bloody shirt into a basin to soak, he proceeded to pace around his chambers, thinking carefully what he would say to Thorin.

They would have to talk about the Five Tasks of the Worthy, at least, and about the courting in general – whether forming something more than a friendship between them was still a possibility. Bilbo was very hopeful that it was, but of course he needed to hear what Thorin had to say about the matter.

And what had happened to Bilbo's magic ring? Where was it? Could Bilbo get it back?

Even though Bilbo was eager to have his answers and make things right with Thorin, it still took him almost an hour to gather enough courage to knock on the door that separated his cozy chambers from Thorin's royal ones.

When Bilbo finally knocked on the door, he was beyond nervous. Fiddling with his long sleeves, he waited for the door to open. He didn't have to wait for long, as the door was soon pushed open and Dwalin appeared in the doorway, giving Bilbo one of his more patient, friendlier glares. Bilbo had to blink, as he certainly hadn't been expecting for _Dwalin_ to open the's door.

"Um, good evening, Dwalin," Bilbo said and offered the dwarf a weary smile. "How are you?"

"Intact," Dwalin grunted. "How's your nose?"

"Intact as well. Is Thorin... in his chambers?"

"Why would I be here, if he wasn't?" Dwalin asked, giving Bilbo a confused look. "I'm not in a habit of sneaking around his chambers uninvited – and if I was, I wouldn't give away my presence by opening doors."

Dwalin was obviously doing his best to appear polite – Bilbo had to admit that the gesture was actually quite touching coming from someone who usually liked to test his new swear words on Bilbo just to see how crude the hobbit would think they were.

"I would like to talk with Thorin," Bilbo said after a while when Dwalin didn't make any movements to step out of his way. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Dwalin said, sounding slightly exasperated like he always did when he thought Bilbo was asking stupid or unnecessary questions."If you weren't welcome to come in, I wouldn't have opened the door for you."

Dwalin glanced behind his shoulder, before leaning closer to Bilbo with a frown on his face, looking suddenly hesitant.

"Thorin already knows that he failed you," the dwarf said in a low voice, "and if that is what you wish to tell him, I must ask you not to. There's no need to twist the knife in the wound. It won't take much to crush a lad with a broken heart. There is no honour in beating the beaten."

"Beating the beaten?" Bilbo shook his head, frowning. "And in what way does Thorin think that he failed me? He's not blaming himself for that veripartah thing, is he? Really, Dwalin, I'd just like to talk with Thorin. If one of us is going to get our heart broken, surely it will be me and not him, so don't worry."

Dwalin didn't look pleased at all with his words, but stepped aside anyway, letting Bilbo enter the chambers.

Bilbo stepped into Thorin's bedchamber – and froze. The usually neat chamber was in a complete disorder: the heavy wardrobe had been overturned and all of its contents – the shirts, the tunics, the belts, the socks, _everything_ – were now scattered around the floor. The gold-framed mirror laid in pieces on top of the mess and the water basin had been smashed against the fireplace. The bed was unmade and the stuffing of the mattress was strewed around. It looked like the only thing that hadn't been broken or tossed around was the lovely sofa in front of the fireplace, the sofa on which Bilbo and Thorin had spent many pleasant evenings enjoying each other's company.

"Thorin really was livid with me, wasn't he," the soft words escaped Bilbo's lips before he even realized what he was saying. "He must have been, seeing what he did to his bedchamber..."

"His anger was not aimed at you," Dwalin muttered and took Bilbo by the shoulder, pushing him towards Thorin's living chamber. "Thorin wouldn't blame you for his own shortcomings, especially not when you are still healing from... from everything that has been done to you."

"Thorin's _shortcomings_? What do you-"

Bilbo never managed to finish his question, as he was already being pushed into the living chamber.

The circular living chamber was, thankfully, in a much neater state, just as carefully swept and well-organized as usual. There was a fire in the fireplace and all Thorin's books seemed to be still intact – thank Mahal – and on their familiar places on the large bookcase. There were several chandleries around the chamber, filling every potential shadow with warm light. The largest one of the chandeliers was hanging directly above the round table in the middle of the chamber.

Thorin was sitting at the table, but upon noticing Bilbo, he immediately stood up. He was wearing his heavy ceremonial robes, complete with silver chains and the wide Sapphire Belt – while Bilbo had chosen his clothes for comfort, it looked like Thorin had dressed to impress. Compared to Thorin's grandeur, Bilbo felt suddenly horribly self-conscious and insignificant in his plain everyday clothes. Thorin didn't seem to mind, though, as he was looking Bilbo up and down with what Bilbo – now that he was aware of Thorin's intentions of courting him – could recognize as yearning. He had seen that same look in Thorin's eyes often enough, most often when it had been just the two of them in a peaceful evening, but Bilbo had never before thought much of it. Oh, how blind and foolish he had been not to see what was right in front of him!

To Bilbo's surprise, there were four other persons in the chamber as well, all sitting around the table. Following Thorin's example, Fili, Kili, Bofur and Balin stood up, the expressions on their faces varying from Kili's delighted one to Bofur's solemn one, as they looked at Bilbo.

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Bilbo said, looking from dwarf to dwarf with hesitation.

"_No_," Thorin said sharply, moving his leg in such a quick, jerky way that he hit his toes against the table leg, wincing as he did so, "you are not interrupting anything, halfling."

"Anything apart from some terribly uncomfortable silence between my broody uncle and us merry lot, that is," Fili muttered, but no-one paid him any mind, as Kili and Bofur were already hurrying towards Bilbo.

Bofur looked Bilbo over carefully, before reaching out and giving his back a few gentle, cautious pats, as if he was afraid that he might cause the hobbit further harm. Kili, on the other hand, threw his arms around Bilbo and squeezed him tightly, albeit briefly.

"Nice to see that you're finally up and about," Bofur said, grinning at Bilbo. "Fili, of course, told me as much and Healer Eneste was just here telling us about your condition, but it's still good to actually see you myself. But by Mahal, Bilbo! What in Eru made you put your face in the way of Thorin's fist? That wasn't very smart of you, was it. Not smart at all. Had Thorin happened to knock on the door harder, your face would now be an unrecognizable lump of bloody flesh! Like bloody minced beef with a touch of flab here and there, or like unbaked liver casserole with lingonberry jam! Just think about it!"

Bilbo did his best not to think about it.

"A smart hobbit like you," Bofur continued, frowning and shaking his head, "should really know to be more careful when opening doors. Wrenching doors open can be very dangerous, especially when we are yet to secure the whole of the mountain. If you wrenched a door open in the lower levels, you might come unexpectedly face to face with an elgaroth, or even the turso, and that wouldn't be convenient at all, would it."

Bilbo had no idea who or what "the turso" was and he said as much, prompting Bofur to sigh and give him a tight but affectionate smile.

Thorin was shifting in his place, looking very uncomfortable with the topic of the conversation.

"We tried to wake you up for hours when you were in the Healing Halls," Kili explained eagerly, pulling Bilbo towards the table by arm, "me and Bofur and everyone. Fili shook you and I poured some water onto your face and Bombur let out one of his loudest burbs, but nothing worked. Dori even played his trombone for a while. Did you know that Dori can play the trombone?"

"Uh, yes," Bilbo said, because of course Bilbo had known that: Dori had actually tried to teach him to play the trombone, before the two of them had come to the conclusion that brass horns might not have been the best instruments for hobbits. Bilbo had broken Dori's music stand by fainting on it (several times) after emptying his lungs into the trombone (repeatedly). The most embarrassing aspect of it all was that the trombone hadn't made a sound, no matter how much Bilbo had blown into it. Dori had insisted it was all about practise, but after the fourth time Bilbo had collapsed onto the finely made music stand, Dori had suggested that Bilbo should, perhaps, try a stringed instrument or a drum, if he really wanted to learn to play something.

"The healers told us to let you wake up in your own time," Kili continued. "And then I had to leave to participate in the Royal Hearing Hour to 'learn to hold my tongue', which is why I wasn't there when you woke up."

Bilbo was offered an empty chair next to Fili and he sat down onto it, trying not to feel too annoyed over the fact that his private conversation with Thorin was apparently put on a hold till the unforeseeable future for whatever reason the six dwarves had gathered into Thorin's living chamber. Bofur took a seat next to him and Kili hurried to sit on the other side of Fili, followed closely by Dwalin who sat down onto a chair between Thorin and Kili.

"I had to go to work too," Bofur said, "and couldn't unfortunately be there when you woke up. I've been told about what happened in the Guarding Level a few days ago and I am so, so sorry for all of it as well. If there is anything that I – that _we_ – can do to help you, Bilbo, don't hesitate to let us know. You can come to see me any time you feel like it, be it night or day. We're friends and friends care for each other."

"That we certainly do," Bilbo agreed with a small smile, "but I'm fine, Bofur, really. No need to concern yourself on my behalf."

"It certainly is quite reassuring to see that you are doing better, Bilbo," Balin said from his place between Thorin and Bofur. "We were all worried about you... But now that all the necessary parties have arrived and taken their seats, we can finally proceed to discuss about the courting between King Thorin of Erebor and Bilbo Baggins of Bag End."

"What?" Bilbo said, as soon as he fully grasped what Balin had just said. "Courting between me and Thorin? What do you – you are not saying that _you all_ are here to talk about... about a _private __matter_ between me and Thorin, are you?

"Yes, he is," Kili assured. "Thorin was really starting to get anxious, wondering whether you would come here at all after all, even though you told him you would. We've been keeping uncle company for _two whole hours_, and during that whole time Thorin has been longing for you to simply come and clear things up by kiss-"

"Shut up, Kili," Fili hissed between his teeth, elbowing his little brother in the side, while glancing at their uncle.

"But Thorin and Bilbo are making things more complicated than necessary," Kili hissed back at his brother. "I'm only trying to help them as uncle's spokeskin."

Bilbo lifted his chin, observing the dwarves around the table. Except from Thorin who was glowering at the table top, they were all looking at Bilbo.

"I believe," Bilbo began slowly, "that the whole courting business is a matter between me and Thorin. I had been hoping that we could talk about... things in private."

"I'm afraid that you would break the traditions if you did," Balin said. "When the courting goes wrong, like it has in this case, it is the tradition to have friends of both parties to sort out the situation as impartially as possible. Bofur and Fili are here as your friends, Bilbo, while Dwalin and Kili represent Thorin's kin and friends. I am the neutral party whose responsibility is to see that both parties will be heard and no-one will be exploited. Thorin has already expressed his acceptance of the members present, but we need your agreement as well, before we can start. Do you accept Bofur and Fili as your spokesfriends? I am Dwalin's brother and Fili is Thorin's nephew, so if that bothers you-"

"It doesn't bother me," Bilbo sighed, rubbing his eyes, "but Thorin and I can sort things out by ourselves."

"Nevertheless," Balin said, "it is the tradition, and as your courting has been little else but untraditional so far, it would be best for all if at least this part of it could be done properly. Fili told us that you are yet to be familiarized with the Five Tasks of the Worthy, even though all the tasks are already completed more or less successfully."

"Completed, untraditional," Bilbo huffed. "How any part of our courting _could_ have been traditional when I'm not familiar with any of the dwarven courting traditions? Before Fili told me a few hours ago, I didn't even know that Thorin had been courting me!"

Burning spruce was cracking in the fireplace, but otherwise the chamber fell completely silent after Bilbo's admission.

"Well," Dwalin broke the silence after a while, raising his dark eyebrows at Thorin, "that's a bit inconvenient, don't you think."

Thorin's clenched fist was pressed against the hard surface of the table and the look upon his face was almost as sad as it was distressed.

"Inconvenient," the king repeated. "I wouldn't necessary use the word 'inconvenient', when my most sincere intentions have gone unnoticed. This is not just _inconvenient_ but terribly humiliating as well. I have made a fool of myself and caused a lot of inconvenience to my bel- to Bilbo."

"You haven't caused me any inconvenience," Bilbo assured. "I am the one causing trouble, after all, am I not, of which I am terribly sorry."

"I don't like it when you are apologizing," Thorin said gruffly. "It's irritating, as you have nothing to be apologize for. Haven't I already told you as much?"

"What my uncle is trying to say," Kili hurried to say, before Bilbo managed to utter his answer, "is that he would very much like to have another chance to prove his worth, if only he is granted that honour."

"May I remind you lot," Bofur raised his voice a bit, "that Bilbo here doesn't know anything about the Five Tasks of the Worthy. If Thorin wishes for another chance to prove his worth, he will have to start by explaining the Tasks to Bilbo. Otherwise Bilbo can't decide whether another chance should be given or not."

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**I had been planning on explaining the tasks in this chapter, but thought I'd update the 13th chapter already, as I haven't been updating for a while. It's 2:01 in the morning when I'm writing this and I'm just about to fell asleep on my laptop, so I apologize for all the grammatical errors and... and... nd... Zzzzzzzzz...  
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	14. Chapter 14

**One or two chapters to go, I believe. Then I'll focus on my other story.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing and making it this far with me! :)**

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"That is a fair and reasonable request," Balin mused, looking at Bofur with approval, "but as Bilbo wasn't aware that he was being courted by Thorin, we should first ask the poor lad whether or not he even accepts the courting. If he does not accept it, we will end this discussion immediately and shall never talk about this matter again. Only if Bilbo accepts Thorin's advances will we continue."

As one, the dwarves turned their expectant stares at Bilbo who didn't know what he wanted to do the most: whether he wanted to throw, haul or chase the meddling dwarves out of Thorin's chambers, yell at Thorin for not explaining the courting traditions properly in the first place, or shock everyone in the chamber by going and planting a sweet kiss on Thorin's lips. Bilbo was also eager to have answers to his various questions and _itching_ to go to clean up Thorin's disorderly bedchamber – how someone could trash their own chamber like that was completely beyond him.

While Bilbo mused, he was oblivious to the several looks that he was given, looks varying from Balin's patient one to Bofur's encouraging one. Fili and Kili were frowning, looking increasingly uncertain and restless by every passing moment that Bilbo stayed silent, their eyes flickering from the hobbit to their uncle and back to Bilbo again. Thorin's face was carefully guarded, as he eyed Bilbo from across the table, while Dwalin simply glowered in a thoughtful manner.

"You will not get into trouble, Bilbo, however you decide," assured Balin finally, startling Bilbo from his thoughts, just as Dwalin muttered, "Should I break the halfling's fingers if he turns you down, Thorin?"

To Dwalin's credit, he did sound rather reluctant at the prospect, but Bilbo was still relieved to see Thorin give the dwarf a shake of his head and a sharp, warning look.

"No harm will come to you, Bilbo Baggins," the king promised, "regardless of whether you accept or refuse to be courted by me – I give you my word on that. There will be no consequences, not for you."

"I know that," Bilbo said with a frown, sending Dwalin a quick glare which he hoped was enough to tell the dwarf that he _would_ bite _hard_, if someone even _tried to_ break any fingers.

Kili crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back against his chair.

"This is stupid," he huffed, as he tilted back his chair, balancing it only on its hind legs and on the tip of his boots. "Of course Bilbo accepts! Why wouldn't he accept _Thorin's_ courting? There is no better dwarf than my uncle, after all. He and Bilbo are made for each other, stubborn and slightly blockheaded as they both are."

"Kili is right," Bilbo agreed and the young prince's face brightened at that – it wasn't often that someone said Kili was right about something. "I fully agree that Thorin Oakenshield is terribly stubborn and slightly blockheaded."

"If you continue to be that insufferable, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said in an accentuatedly calm manner, clasping his hands on the table, "I will become terribly tempted to ruffle that well-combed hair on your legs, until it will take you days to untangle it all. It's such pretty hair, would be a pity to ruffle it, wouldn't it."

Thorin's words caused Bilbo to shiver for many different reasons and the princes to exchange horrified looks.

"Not while we're in the room, uncle!" gasped Kili.

"We truly don't wish to see any ruffling, Thorin," Fili was quick to agree.

Bofur frowned at his king quite bravely.

"Bilbo has the right to consider his answer for as long as he needs to," he remarked, putting a steady hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "And he has the right to do it without any kinds of threats on your part."

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin recoiled and inclined his head in a repentant manner.

"My apologies," Thorin uttered, appearing suddenly a bit embarrassed. "I will not... threaten him again. He can take all the time he needs to think about his decision."

"I've actually already made my decision," Bilbo said, after clearing his throat, and once more all the dwarves in the chamber fell silent, focusing their full, undivided attention on him. "If Thorin still truly wishes so, I will be more than happy to let him court me. I thought my decision and my feelings on the matter would be obvious, considering the way the kamalas announced my love for Thorin quite explicitly."

If Bilbo had expected to see the tension leave Thorin's shoulders or to hear the king give some kind of an exclamation of delight at Bilbo's declaration of love, he was sadly disappointed. All Bilbo got from his words were an incredulous glare and a low growl, as if Thorin wasn't quite believing him.

"_Your_ love for _me_?" Thorin repeated, growling and straightening his back in such a quick, startling motion that the silver chains on his robes rattled and jingled and sparkled in the warm lighting. "_Your love for me_ – it was _my_ love for _you_, halfling, that the kamalas were sensing! I know you are kind and trying to make me feel better, but I am no fool and I am already aware of the truth. The kamalas made it quite clear – they took you away because of _my_ _love_, they made you suffer because of it! They said as much, as you must have heard. They sensed my love for you and used it to torment both of us to avenge their kin that I had killed. Because of _my_ _feelings_, you were the one forced to suffer while I could do nothing but watch and curse your tormentors! So don't you dare to try to-!"

Thorin cut himself off. His voice had become angrier and more powerful with every word he had said, until he was shaking with his roars. He had stood up, apparently not quite realizing he had done so, and was now breathing heavily, staring at Bilbo with wild eyes.

If Bilbo hadn't known Thorin like he did, he might have been scared to be shouted and stared like that. Now, though, he could hear the slight shake in his friend's breathing, see the terrible guilt in the blue eyes, notice the way Thorin was swallowing and shaking and not quite knowing what to do or how to be.

The sight was most distressing, and Bilbo bit his lip to keep it from trembling.

With his chest still heaving, Thorin groped for the table and leaned heavily against it.

"It is my fault," Thorin said hoarsely, his voice full of shame and regret. "My fault, Bilbo, all of it. If it wasn't for me, the kamalas wouldn't have hurt you so, they wouldn't have disgraced you the way they did. They wouldn't have captured you – they were only interested in children, after all, and certainly not in hobbits. I have no right to ask you for another chance to court you, and I _won't_ ask for one. If you still wish to stay in Erebor, like you claimed you did, I _swear_ I will stay out of your way. After the way I failed you, I have no right to... to have anything to do with you. This gathering was a mistake. Dismissed. All of you."

None of the dwarves moved, but Bilbo was out of his seat before he knew it, shrugging Bofur's hand off his shoulder as he stood up. He circled the table, until he was standing right next to Thorin and could take a firm hold of the king's arm. Thorin flinched at the unexpected contact, but upon noticing it was Bilbo touching him, didn't pull away. Bilbo could feel the well-formed biceps flexing under his hand and he had to swallow quite a few times before he found his voice.

"None of it was your fault, Thorin," he eventually assured his friend, his voice surprisingly hoarse. "I blame you for nothing and I wish that you didn't blame yourself either. It was _I_ who ran into the Guarding Level and threw the key away, wasn't it, while you yelled and warned me not to do it. And in the end, you even saved me, didn't you. You did save my life, my friend. You didn't fail me, so don't act like you did."

"You are very... kind, Bilbo," Thorin said in a tight voice, opening Bilbo's hand one finger at a time, until Bilbo wasn't holding the muscular arm any longer, "but I did fail you and I did fail the challenge, tremendously so, as you almost got killed. I must be blamed for that – if you are too forgiving to blame me, I will blame myself on your behalf as well as on my own."

As Bilbo didn't have anything to hold onto anymore, he folded his arms and turned to look at Balin, huffing and feeling quite frustrated at the whole situation.

"What _dratted_ challenge is Thorin talking about?" he inquired, perhaps a bit more sharply than intended. "Does it have something to do with the Five Tasks of the Worthy? If it does, please explain. I freely admit that I have had enough of feeling confused."

Balin gave him an unreadable look. Kili was shifting in his seat, but all the older dwarves were tense and unmoving.

"The Challenge," Balin finally said, "well, it is, in fact, the last one of the Five Tasks, the fifth task. The other four tasks are Wealth, Diligence, Trust and Protection, all of which Thorin has already successfully completed."

"And how is it possible that you didn't know that, hobbit?" Dwalin asked, his voice suspicious and demanding, as he leaned forward and studied Bilbo's face with narrowed eyes. "I have been told that when Thorin courted you, you gave all the correct answers – even if they were never quite properly worded."

"I have no idea what these 'correct answers' are supposed to be. If I gave 'correct answers', I did it all completely by chance," Bilbo said and Thorin winced, before dropping into his chair and rubbing his face in a worn manner. Bilbo grimaced, but he had finish, "And to answer your question, Dwalin, the question about how I didn't know about the tasks: I'm a _hobbit_ and I am simply not yet aware of all the _dwarven_ traditions."

"Well, that does make sense, doesn't it," Fili admitted reluctantly. "It's easy to forget that not everyone knows our ways, not even someone who is already one of us. We should have been aware of that and explained things to Bilbo more often than we did."

"Oh, Bilbo," Kili sighed, shaking his head in a regretful manner, "we must apologize! Sometimes it's so easy to forget that you are not actually a dwarf."

"Easy?" Bilbo gaped at the young princes. "How can it be _easy_? I don't even have a beard!"

"That you don't, lad," Bofur said cheerfully, giving Bilbo a bright grin, "but most dwarves are not looking at your _face_, anyway, when they see you – it's actually your hairy legs they're admiring."

"My... legs?"

"Yep," Kili said, craning his head to take a look at Bilbo's bare feet. "Your hairy legs. They really are pretty, aren't they."

"They are," grumbled Dwalin, staring straight ahead and ignoring the way Thorin's head shot up at his voice. "Hairy and bare, those wriggling toes... Most _tantalizing_."

It was difficult to say which one of them flushed more, Bilbo or Thorin.

"E-excuse me!" Bilbo sputtered, shifting his feet and feeling terribly self-conscious, which caused the corner of Dwalin's lip to quirk, as if their situation was somehow amusing. Thorin didn't seem amused at all, as he glowered at the quirked lip, his face darkening into a scowl.

"Kili, _stop staring_ at Bilbo's feet," snapped Fili, cuffing his little brother in the back of the head. "And Dwalin, please don't antagonize Thorin before we have this matter solved. Uncle, don't kill Dwalin. I guarantee you that there's no need to be jealous."

Kili was quick to lower his gaze, while Thorin let go off the dagger on his belt with a quiet huff. Dwalin leaned back in his chair, his self-satisfied smirk only growing if anything.

Bofur rolled his eyes and winked at Bilbo when their eyes met, as if to say, "they're a bit dense, the whole lot, don't you think" – Balin merely let out a resigned sigh and shook his head, as if he had been aware of the fact for a long, long while already.

"The purpose of the tasks, Bilbo," said Balin, and even though his sigh had been resigned, he was still apparently determined to get them back to the original topic, of which Bilbo was very grateful, "the purpose of the Five Tasks of the Worthy is, of course, to prove one's worthiness. The first one of the tasks, Wealthiness, is supposed to prove that the one courting can support the one being courted if necessary. Thorin did this four months ago by taking you to observe how his gold was being weighed and counted."

"_That_ was a part of the courting?" Bilbo asked, blinking, because the Gold Weighing Month had probably been the most boring month of his entire life.

Every morning Thorin had knocked on the door that separated their chambers, asking if Bilbo was ready to accompany him to the treasury. Then he had looked so proud and happy to have Bilbo admiring his gold that Bilbo simply didn't have the heart to say anything but, "oh, there's even more gold, how... nice," and, "how many days do you think this weighing will still take?"

"Yes, it was," Balin said with a firm nod. "And you showed your willingness to accept the courting by staying by Thorin's side the whole time, giving occasional compliments, as is the tradition."

"I, uh, well, I _did_ do that..." Bilbo had to admit. "But I didn't know I was being courted. I just wanted to... spent time with Thorin and be polite."

Balin merely stared at him.

"Even though Wealthiness itself does, in some cases, make one worthy," Bofur continued a bit impatiently, after the dwarves had stared at Bilbo for a while, waiting for someone else to continue speaking, "there are still four other tasks. The second task is to show that you are diligent and hard-working."

"Which is why the second task is called Diligence," Kili helped, letting his chair drop against the floor with a bang, before sitting at the table properly without all the chair tilting. "It should demonstrate that the one courting is not lazy in any way, or anything."

Bilbo gave a frown at that and moved to stand behind Thorin. Thoughtfully, he buried his fingers into Thorin's long, dark hair and began to stroke the thick locks. He found the act quite calming and this was certainly one of those moments when he truly needed to be calm.

"You're not saying," he began slowly, extracting his fingers, when his gentle stroke was halted by several insistent tangles, before beginning to untangle the hair, "that Thorin has been working even harder than usual because of _me_, are you."

Dwalin gave Bilbo an exasperated look that conveyed very well how stupid the dwarf considered that particular question to be.

"Kili and Bofur just said so, hobbit, didn't they. If you aren't listening, this explaining is completely pointless and a waste of our time."

"Sorry," Bilbo hurried to say. "I'm listening, I really am. Please, do continue."

Dwalin gave him an unimpressed frown, but didn't manage to utter anything when another voice joined the conversation.

"The third task," said Thorin in a grim voice, "is to show respect and trust to the one being courted. I did this by letting you read me to sleep, Bilbo, by letting you stay by my side even when I was unconscious, asleep, and thus at my most weakest state."

Bilbo felt his breath catching in his throat at the admission. If possible, the untangling of the hair became even more gentle and affectionate.

"The fourth task," Thorin continued, "is Protection, to show the beloved one that he will be protected. I gave you one of my best guards, Gladur, as a personal guard. When I did that, you gave me all the traditional answers – you complimented her and emphasized the fact that you can take care of yourself. I never thought you didn't know of my intentions, as you even knew to argue for how you didn't need a personal guard, as is the tradition."

"Although your answers were, indeed, _very untraditionally_ worded," Balin put in with a grimace. "It was painful for me to listen to you, Bilbo, to be honest."

"If I had known I was being courted," Bilbo began, pulling one of the tangles in Thorin's hair a bit harder than strictly necessary, "I would have naturally studied the proper words. But as I didn't know that, I just said what I was thinking."

"As you usually do," Thorin muttered, wincing a bit, as Bilbo tugged the tangle, yet again.

"As I usually do," Bilbo confirmed.

"As stated before," Balin said, "the fifth task is the Challenge. The challenge is to complete whatever task or quest the beloved one wants to be completed. The harder the task, the worthier the beloved one considers his or hers suitor to be. The tasks are often quests like finding someone's missing relative, or killing one monster or another, but some dwarves have learnt new skills for their beloved ones as well."

"Keeping that in mind," Fili said, "you can probably imagine that we were all pretty taken aback when you challenged Thorin into a game of hide and seek, as we all had assumed that his challenge would be something quite difficult, considering he is _very_ worthy, being_ Thorin_, and everything."

Thorin grumbled and stood up abruptly, slipping out of Bilbo's reach and moving to stand in front of the fireplace to stare at the glowing embers with his back turned to his friends.

"Worthy, indeed," Thorin snorted, his voice full of sadness and bitter regret. "I'm not particularly worthy, am I. I failed your Challenge, Bilbo. Such an easy challenge – a childish game, I thought – so easy a game that it actually made me angry to be deemed so unworthy. The challenge did become slightly better when I realized that hobbits could turn invisible and even worthier when you ran up into the Guarding Level... But then I failed the challenge, I failed you. I failed to catch you in time, and because of me, the kamalas took you away and tormented you and disgraced you. I of course took care of you afterwards as well as I could, washed the veripartah off your face myself and lifted you into the bed to rest, but it simply wasn't enough. How you can even look me in the eye after all that is one thing I will never understand, why you spared me from hearing_ the words _is another."

Thorin probably didn't expect the gentle arms that twined around his chest and pulled him into a warm embrace.

"You didn't fail the challenge as I hadn't yet given you one," Bilbo mumbled against Thorin's back, pressing his lips against the soft velvet, as he hugged his most beloved, dense, foolish, taciturn friend as tightly as he dared to with his arm still healing from the kamala's bite. "And what words did I spare you from hearing, exactly?"

"The words of rejection, of course," Kili said after a while from his place at the table when it became obvious that Thorin wasn't able to answer, tense and about to bolt as he seemed to be. "_Ikuisiksi ajoiksi_, that is. It is the traditional way of saying that the suitor has failed, that the courting is officially over and that the one being courted will never wish to see his or hers suitor ever again. Basically, Bilbo, uncle was afraid that you would tell him that you hated him. And anyway, he's not that great with abandonment, as you might have guessed..."

Yes, Bilbo had known that, of course. Considering the way Thorin had, in his life time, lost his parents and grandparents, his brother and several of his good friends, not to mention his home, wealth and kingdom, it was no wonder if Thorin had a hard time dealing with any kind of abandonment. It must have been horrible for him to think that Bilbo would hate him, that he would have to listen to Bilbo voicing his hatred. No wonder Thorin had asked Bilbo not to "say the words". Thorin had probably decided it would be easier to part and be rejected without ever actually having to hear Bilbo's rejection.

"I'm not going to say those words," Bilbo decided, his arms still secure around Thorin. "That's a promise. So don't worry, Thorin, I won't say them to you, as I don't hate you at all."

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**I hope this chapter gave you more answers than new questions. But whatever you thought, feel free to let me know. :)  
**

**Also, some people have been asking about the foreign words - mostly Finnish - that I've used in this fic, so I'll probably give you the translations in the next chapter, at least to those words that I didn't just make up. I would have added the translations in this chapter, but it's almost midnight again and I'll have to go to school tomorrow, so... (Why am I always writing these at night? :O :D )**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for all the encouraging feedback you've given me so far! It's all been very much appreciated!**

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Bilbo ignored the cold silver chains on Thorin's ceremonial robes in order to clung to the soft velvet more tightly. He grasped the front of Thorin's robe with his hands and pressed his cheek against Thorin's broad back. He could hear the fast, steady rhythm of Thorin's heartbeat and feel the broadening and the contracting of Thorin's chest, as the king took and released shuddering breaths.

Thorin smelt _Thorin_, safe and powerful and a bit like granite, and Bilbo inhaled the familiar scent, relishing in their close, unexpected proximity – he had already almost believed that he could never do or have something like... like _this_.

"Oh, Thorin," he sighed softly. "I am so, so relieved that you're letting me hug you: when you said you didn't wish to hear my words, I thought you meant that you were so angry with me that you couldn't stand to hear my voice. I actually feared that you didn't want to be my friend anymore. It was horrible! I never once thought that you were afraid of me rejecting and hating you, as I was so afraid that you would banish me – I thought that _you_ hated _me_, after all the trouble I had caused."

"You haven't caused me any trouble, Bilbo, and I certainly don't hate you," Thorin grumbled, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. "Quite the opposite. My feelings for you couldn't be deeper or more affectionate – how many times do you insist on hearing that? And it is certainly not my intention to banish you. Didn't I already make it clear that if you wish to leave, it is entirely of your own volition?"

A slow smile spread on Bilbo's face and he tightened his arms around Thorin, just for a daring, little while, before he let go and took a couple of steps backwards to put some distance between the two of them.

"You sound very exasperated for someone who has just been given another chance to finish his courting, Master Oakenshield," he said a bit cheekily. "Although, from my point of view, it will actually be your first chance."

Thorin turned around to look at Bilbo, the expression on his face one of pure relief and mirth. He wasn't smiling, not exactly, but his eyes shone with joy and he stood up straighter, more proudly, more majestically, every bit the arrogant dwarf Bilbo had grown to care for.

"I would really like to see your smile," Bilbo said when Thorin stepped closer to loom over him. "Could I, as the one being courted, get at least the smallest of smiles?"

If Thorin's eyes hadn't been so full of love and life, the look that passed his face might have been called a frown. Now, though, the fleeting expression was gone before Bilbo could study it more closely, and a happy but mildly confused look on Thorin's face was left on its wake.

"Love is not a laughing matter, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin declared, his face serious but his eyes smiling warmly down at Bilbo. "Why would I jest when I have just been given a seed of love to sow? I intent to let that seed grow and guard it jealously till the end of my days. I will show you how much your love and affections mean to me and I will never jest about it."

Under Thorin's close scrutiny, Bilbo could feel his cheeks go hot and suddenly he felt terribly shy, having Thorin so close, right in front of him, talking about _his feelings for Bilbo_. Bilbo could feel Thorin's intent gaze on his face, but he had to lower his own eyes, unable to meet the weight of the beautiful eyes as he was.

"Back in the Shire," Bilbo began, "those who are in love usually smile at each other. It is to show that they are happy and care for each other and enjoy each other's company. Smiling is not about making fun of one's love, not among the hobbits, at least."

"It is not?"

"No, it's not."

Thorin hummed thoughtfully.

"In that case, my hobbit, I have wasted time and effort on trying to be grave and serious with you," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on Bilbo's arm, his manner hesitant, as if he was afraid that Bilbo might bolt at the gentlest of touches.

Bilbo gave Thorin an encouraging smile and Thorin's whole being grew immediately more confident, although his gaze was still flickering between Bilbo's face and the hand he had placed on Bilbo's arm like he wasn't quite believing his own boldness and the fact that he could touch Bilbo's arm without being yelled at.

"Among dwarves," Thorin continued, "the one courting is supposed to display restraint by appearing a bit distant to the one being courted – is that not the same with hobbits?"

"Certainly not!" Bilbo assured. "And appearing distant sounds awfully dreadful! If you want to finish your courting, Thorin, I really must ask you not to become distant. If we could mix some hobbit courting traditions with the dwarven ones, I'd like it if you could display happiness with smiles and kisses. Otherwise, I cannot know whether you are content. Otherwise, I will be lead to think that you are constantly annoyed or angry with me."

"In all fairness, Bilbo," Thorin muttered, letting his thumb stroke Bilbo's arm, "I am annoyed with you most of the time."

"Yes, but not _all_ the time, surely."

"Well, no, not all the time. Just most of the time."

Balin's cough cut through Bilbo and Thorin's moment, a moment that was becoming more and more intimate by each heartbeat.

"To me," Balin said, "it looks like there has been some misunderstandings and miscommunication on both sides."

Dwalin chuckled, startling Bilbo by banging his palm against the table top in a quick, delighted motion.

"And to me, brother dear," Dwalin said in an unusually boisterous voice, "it looks like there are _feelings and desires_ on both sides. Good for you, Thorin, you _big_ oaf! I hope that you will let Bilbo rub down – or should I say rub 'up' – some leaking oaken wood as soon as possible to get you into a more relaxed mood. You've been so tense and _hard on_ yourself lately, haven't you. If you need any tips on how to lubricate his-"

"_Dwalin_!" Balin interrupted his brother sharply, sounding appalled. "There are _youths_ present – Fili and Kili are at least half a decade too young to be subjected to such talks!"

"Neh, they're not," Dwalin disagreed, even though Fili had a pinched, frozen smile on his face and Kili was holding his ears tightly, muttering, "not listening, not listening," quietly to himself.

"If a lad is old enough to fight orcs, he's definitely old enough to hear me talking about the desires of the flesh."

"No-one is old enough to hear _you_ talking about such things, Dwalin," Thorin said with a sigh. "Although, as I've told you before, my desires are perfectly-"

"Please stop!" Fili yelped in a tight, pained voice. "I don't want to know _anything_ about _anyone's_ desires if we're related!"

"Yes, why don't we talk about something else," Bilbo agreed, frowning in disapproval and shaking his head at Thorin and Dwalin.

Thorin scowled at Dwalin.

"Now you have made Bilbo dissatisfied with me," he accused, prompting Dwalin to raise his eyebrows and arms in an innocent manner.

"Now, now, Thorin, my brother in arms," the warrior said. "I haven't yet even mentioned one certain comb, purchased not a week ago just for the purpose of combing the leg hair of one certain hobbit."

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin flushed bright red and let quickly go off Bilbo's arm.

"I _will_-" Thorin choked, pointing a finger at Dwalin, "I _will_ strangle you with your own beard, Dwalin!"

"That would be quite a way to leave this life," Dwalin mused, "but comb some 'soft-looking and arousing' leg hair first. It might calm you down."

"You have a comb for my leg hair?" Bilbo asked Thorin, aiming for nonchalant but probably appearing flustered if anything – the idea of Thorin combing his legs, Thorin's hands running up and down his legs, taking a hold of his ankles, lifting his feet onto the wide shoulders and, oh, it was so... oh...

Bilbo swallowed hard.

Thorin rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Uh, I assure you, Bilbo, that my intentions-"

Whatever Thorin had been trying to say was interrupted by Bofur clearing his throat loudly.

"May I remind you all," Bofur said, sounding a bit frustrated, "that it really is not proper to be talking about hair – especially leg hair – when the Challenge is yet to be named. You can comb all you like when Bilbo has given you the permission to do so, Thorin, but not a moment before that. You wouldn't want to become one of the Worthless, would you."

Fili sprang up to his feet.

"Thorin would _never_ become one of the Worthless!" he stated hotly, clenching his fists and glaring at the dwarves around him, as if daring someone to object.

Startled by Fili's sudden movement, Kili stopped muttering about "not listening" and let go off his ears, looking up at his brother, bewildered and apparently a bit taken aback by the vehemence on Fili's face.

"Thorin wouldn't lower himself so! He wouldn't even leave his chambers until I convinced him otherwise, until I told him to go to talk with Bilbo if he trusted me at all – if anyone has cause to be Worthless in this matter, surely it will be me and not my uncle!"

"Sit down, sister-son," Thorin commanded and, after one last glare at the chamber in general, Fili complied, dropping into his chair and folding his arms on his chest.

The atmosphere had suddenly become tense and uncomfortable. Bilbo looked at his friends with worry: Fili was glowering at the table top, while Bofur's eyebrows were moving up and down furiously like he was trying – but not quite managing – to think desperately for something to say. Kili looked confused, but seeing his brothers irritation, began to scowl in empathy. Dwalin and Thorin were both frozen to their respectable spots, neither one of them meeting anyone's gaze, while Balin simply shook his head, letting out voiceless sighs.

"I'm confused," Kili whispered to Fili. "What happened while I was holding my ears?"

"Being one of the Worthless," Bilbo said, watching his friends cautiously, "what does it mean?"

"It means," Fili said sharply, "someone who takes by force what is not freely given."

"Those who follow the courting process _only_ to enjoy the momentary pleasures of the flesh are called the Worthless," Balin explained patiently. "The Worthless don't care whether or not a lasting relationship is formed, but might fool the others into believing so, which often causes a lot of inconvenience and heartbreak to the one being courted. Sometimes the Worthless don't even bother to try to finish the tasks before... taking what they are after by force, especially if they are rejected."

"I didn't mean my words quite like that," Bofur said awkwardly. "I would never intentionally imply that Thorin would do something like that to Bilbo. My king, I apologize and beg for your pardon."

Bilbo felt oddly abandoned when Thorin went back to the fireplace to stare at the embers, turning his back to everyone in the chamber.

"Your apologies are not necessary, Bofur," Thorin said. "By Eru, it is I who should apologize for speaking of the things I cannot yet have. You are doing a commendable job as Bilbo's spokesfriend. I wouldn't have expected anything less of you."

Courting. Worthless. Spokesfriends.

Bilbo crossed his arms on his chest and huffed, feeling his temper rising by the moment. He knew his friends were only trying to help, but in all honesty he had had quite enough of dwarven traditions – was it really too much to have a kiss or two from Thorin and some privacy from everyone else?

If he gave Thorin a task of some kind, a Challenge worthy enough for the king, would the others leave and let him finally be alone with Thorin? It was certainly worth trying, but the trouble was, Bilbo had no idea what kind of a Challenge he could give to Thorin.

Bilbo didn't want risk Thorin's safety by asking him to fight any monsters, even though there apparently was "the turso" in the lower levels, nor he wanted Thorin to leave Erebor for a quest. Even though Erebor was becoming more stable by the day, the kingdom wasn't yet stable enough for her king to leave for any period of time. It would have been simply irresponsible and selfish of Bilbo to even hint at a Challenge that would send Thorin away from his kingdom, not to mention that Bilbo didn't want Thorin to go anywhere.

Bilbo wanted for the two of them to be together for as long and much as possible. He wanted Thorin to teach him dwarven ways and he wanted to teach Thorin how hobbits did and regarded things. He wanted them to share experiences and thoughts and stories and to enjoy each other's company. He wanted to love and to be loved.

He didn't care for any Challenges or tasks to prove one's worthiness _at all_.

In the end, Bilbo came up with a Challenge that would be difficult enough for any dwarf – a Challenge that would let Bilbo spend a lot of time with Thorin – a Challenge that would teach Thorin about hobbits and their ways without having to leave Erebor. With a satisfied nod, Bilbo put his hands behind his back.

"I am ready to give Thorin his Challenge," he announced, interrupting whatever it was that Balin had been saying.

The words had barely left Bilbo's lips when Thorin was already twirling around, his eyes alert and eager, his mouth in a focused, determined line. All the other dwarves were looking at Bilbo as well, but Bilbo didn't pay them too much mind, focusing his gaze on Thorin's eyes instead.

"What is my Challenge to be?" Thorin asked quietly.

It was as if the whole chamber was holding its breath. The fire in the fireplace had already died out and not even the cracking of spruce was breaking the silence.

Bilbo took a deep breath, uncomfortably aware that he was currently the centre of everyone's attention.

"Your Challenge, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo said, "your Challenge is to write a book about hobbits."

By writing a book about hobbits, Thorin would spend a lot of time with Bilbo, asking questions and learning new things. Thorin wouldn't have to leave his kingdom and his life would not be put in any kind of danger.

If the chamber had been quiet before, now it was deathly silent. Thorin was staring at Bilbo with unblinking eyes, and when Bilbo risked a glance at the other dwarves, he saw several gaping mouths – he truly hoped that the Challenge was difficult enough to demonstrate how worthy he thought Thorin was.

"A _book_?" Kili eventually gasped, breaking the silence, his voice full of awe and respect. "The Challenge is to write a _book_! About hobbits? Thorin has to write a _book_! By Mahal, that must be the most difficult challenge anyone has ever had to complete! Bilbo really holds uncle in the highest of regards, if he believes that Thorin can _write a book_!"

A wide grin had spread on Thorin's face and the sight of it made Bilbo's knees go weak, just a little bit.

"You truly do consider me worthy, Bilbo," Thorin said, grinning at Bilbo and puffing out his chest in a pompously proud manner. "And I shall not disappoint you, my love. I will begin to write the book about hobbits immediately. Dwalin – go into the library and find out how many pages there are in the longest of books. Kili – go buy me another bottle of the best ink Erebor has to offer. I only have half a bottle left and I think that might not be quite enough."

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**I think the next chapter will be rated M, but I'm not sure yet. Also, here's the list of the (mostly Finnish) words I've used in this fic:**

_- kamala = horrible_

_- Pullamaha = bun tummy_

_- Zamek = lock_

_- veriparta = blood beard_

_- rohto = potion_

_- Annen = other_

_- Golbmâ = three_

_- Ikuisiksi ajoiksi = in perpetuity_

**Hmm, I think that was all.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, it turns out - as some of you already guessed - that I will have to write one more chapter, as this one became longer than intended and I still couldn't say all that I meant to say in it. I hope you're not too bothered about that! And if you are, perhaps I can cheer you up by promising that there will be some smutty smut in the next chapter? Which, of course, will mean that the next chapter will be rated M.**

**Thank you for all the support and reviews! They're really appreciated, and if you saw me when I'm reading them, you'd actually see the huge smile you've put on my face. So yeah, thanks. :)**

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Dwalin stood up and went to stand next to Thorin, taking a firm hold of his friend's shoulders. Bilbo watched, as the two large dwarves banged their heads together, both of them chuckling and grumbling and appearing, all in all, very content and happy.

"A Challenge truly worthy of a king," Dwalin said, giving Thorin a pat in the back and Bilbo an approving nod. "Congratulations, my friends. The task sure will be hard – but so will you in a few moments, so there's always that."

"_Dwalin_!" Balin scolded his brother. "Cease your insinuations when the young princes are present! Eru, do you have to be so crude?"

"Not at all, brother, not at all," Dwalin chuckled and began to hum an obscene tune about "an old hag with a red, red beard", picking up his axe from where it was leaning against the fireplace.

"Terribly difficult challenge!" declared Fili with delight, appearing in front of Bilbo.

"Perfectly excellent," Kili agreed, appearing next to his brother. "Just like you, Bilbo!"

The brothers pulled Bilbo into a hug then, squeezing him so tightly it was difficult for him to breathe. Over their shoulders, Thorin gave Bilbo such a fond, longing look that it made Bilbo's heart flutter and caused a small smile to spread on his flushed face. Seeing Bilbo's happy expression, Thorin's eyes widened, before his grin brightened and turned into a real smile. Bilbo felt a shiver running down his spine, as anticipation filled the air between him and Thorin.

"T-thank you," Bilbo wheezed, wriggling himself out of Fili and Kili's hold. "Your approval means a lot to mean, truly."

The princes flashed him equally brilliant grins, before turning to congratulate their uncle.

Bofur's hug wasn't – fortunately – quite as enthusiastic and tight as Fili and Kili's, but it was nevertheless just as affectionate and sincere.

"I may know how to make toys," Bofur whispered in Bilbo's ear, "but my friends are not to be played with, so if Thorin ever does anything to hurt you, let me know and I'll take you back to the Shire myself."

"Don't worry, Bofur," Bilbo whispered with a smirk. "Thorin hates it when I yell at him, so if he ever hurts me, I'll have a way to sort him out myself. Really, don't worry. And... thank you. For being my friend."

"Likewise."

With one last squeeze, Bofur let go off Bilbo.

"I have a bit of a break tomorrow afternoon – for a change. Fancy doing something together then?"

"Sure!" Bilbo said, delighted at the prospect. "We could go to the Market Hall together. There were a lot of interesting things there and I would like to take a closer look at them."

"Great," Bofur grinned, stroking his beard. "Off to the Market Hall we go then, my friend. I think I'll get my beard oiled. It's starting to get a bit brittle and dry."

With that, Bofur made room for Balin who stepped in front of Bilbo. While Bofur congratulated Thorin, Balin gave Bilbo a respectful bow. Bilbo bowed to the old dwarf just as respectfully.

"Truly the most excellent challenge, Bilbo," Balin said in a low voice, his kind eyes twinkling. "Your wisdom will be needed in Erebor in the years to come, I believe."

"So will yours, I am certain."

"Indeed," Balin agreed with a deep sigh. "Fortunately, for the time being, it seems that my wisdom is not needed, at least not in these chambers. Dwalin, Bofur, boys – we better give Thorin and Bilbo some privacy. Now that the Challenge has been officially named, they can finally make their relations more physical, if they so wish, and there is no need for us to be here to see that."

Bofur and Dwalin nodded in agreement.

"I'll come buy tomorrow to tell you about my findings in the library," Dwalin promised, aiming his words at Thorin. "In the meantime, enjoy your hobbit."

"_If_ Bilbo gives you his consent, that is," Bofur said with a frown. "Otherwise, _no touching_."

"One can always touch oneself, of course," Dwalin added helpfully and Balin let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head.

Then the three dwarves left, closing the door firmly behind them.

Smiling, Bilbo turned to look at Thorin, just in time to see how Thorin banged his head against Fili's, before drawing both of the princes into a hug, a rare gesture that showed how happy and _giddy_ Thorin actually was. Kili hugged Thorin just as tightly, but Fili seemed a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation, clearing his throat and patting his brother and uncle awkwardly in the back.

"Uncle, Kili – aren't we a bit old-"

"My idiots," Thorin said affectionately and Fili closed his mouth, leaving his question unfinished. "Tonight, Bilbo and I will need privacy. If you bother me in any way this evening, I'll braid your hair together and throw you into the Water Hall."

"Not again!" gasped Kili, while Fili gave his uncle a firm nod.

"Don't worry, Thorin," Fili said, "we'll let you and Bilbo be in peace. And good luck with the book! I hope that writing it will be as challenging as possible."

"If anyone can write a book, we believe it's you!" Kili added and both princes nodded eagerly, their trust in their uncle as unshakeable as ever.

"Thank you, sister-sons. I will certainly do my best," Thorin said and shoved Fili and Kili towards the door. "Kili, go buy that ink and bring it to me tomorrow noon. I don't want to see either one of you again tonight, unless it's an emergency."

With smirks and jaunty waves, Fili and Kili went, arms on each other's shoulders.

When the door snapped closed behind the two cheerful brothers, Thorin's living chamber became suddenly very quiet. Where there had been laughter and loud voices just moments earlier was now silence and heavy anticipation, as Bilbo found himself alone with Thorin.

"Hobbit."

Bilbo looked at his friend – and swallowed hard when he noticed how intently Thorin was staring at him. Thorin's eyes were raking over Bilbo's body, travelling from Bilbo's toes to the sturdy feet and slender ankles, up the hairy legs to Bilbo's thighs and stomach. Thorin's gaze lingered on the lacing of Bilbo's shirt for quite a while, before finally Thorin looked at Bilbo's face. As soon as their gazes locked, Thorin's eyes took on that familiar look Bilbo had seen so often before but had only just been able to name – yearning, longing, a need to be close, a need to have and to hold, a need to touch.

Bilbo felt his breath catching in his throat, as all the things he wanted to do with Thorin filled his mind at once. In an anticipatedly nervous motion, he slipped his sweatying hands into his pockets, before changing his mind and taking them quickly out of his pockets, as it would have been simply impolite to keep them there.

Hands certainly were difficult – when one didn't use them, there was no proper place for them. But at least Bilbo had hands, which was something to be grateful of. Not everyone had hands, did they.

Thorin stepped closer, so close that they weren't quite touching, but almost so. Bilbo's heart began to pound and he swallowed, perfectly aware of the fact that were he to take one deep breath, his chest would brush Thorin's.

"Bilbo," Thorin said, his voice wavering just the slightest bit.

"Thorin," Bilbo answered, blinking furiously.

Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but no words were coming out – for once, words failed Bilbo, as well, and so the two of them just stood there, staring at each other with similar longing looks in their eyes, their mouths open and ready to speak.

"Would you-" Thorin said eventually, a deep frown forming on his forehead, "would you like to ki- _eep_..."

He then cleared his throat awkwardly, lowering his gaze to the front of Bilbo's loose-fitting shirt.

"Yes, uh, Bilbo, would you like to keep... to keep the door open for me when I fetch my writing stools? I have had trouble using doors as of late, as you know. And I did say that I would begin to write the book immediately, didn't I."

Bilbo was fairly certain that Thorin had been just about to ask whether Bilbo wanted to kiss him. Bilbo would have said so too, hadn't a terrible thought suddenly crossed his mind: he had been sleeping for a good few days, so he simply _had to_ taste horrible. What if he tasted disgusting? Oh Eru, his mouth was in no condition to be kissed or to kiss with! It was inconvenient and simply very embarrassing for a Baggins of Bag End not to have taken such things into consideration beforehand.

"Um, sure," Bilbo said, offering Thorin a shaky smile. "I'll be happy to keep the door open for you. But, uh, do you happen to have any... cleansing leaves anywhere? I haven't eaten any cleansing leaves for a couple of days, you see, as I was... sleeping, and my mouth feels a bit... I mean, I'd like to have some cleansing leaves, please. If you have any, that is, of course."

Thorin's cheeks had turned a bit red, but the king was doing his best to cover his flush by furrowing his brow and folding his arms on his chest – it wasn't really working.

"The cleansing leaves are in my bathing corner," Thorin said gruffly, his eyes fixed on the lacing on Bilbo's shirt. "In a glass jar. Take as many as you need. Bring some for me, as well, if you please."

Bilbo complied, taking several faltering steps towards Thorin's bedchamber and doing his best to ignore how fast and loudly his heart was beating.

This was it! Thorin, too, wanted cleansing leaves, which probably meant that they were going to kiss in a moment or so. They _would_ be kissing and, oh, how exciting that thought was!

The cleansing leaves were where Thorin had said they would be: in a glass jar on a shelf in Thorin's bathing corner. Bilbo had never really been in Thorin's bathing corner before and couldn't help but look around a bit. There was a bathing tub and a screen and the water closet, just like in Bilbo's bathing corner, but the sword attached to the tub and the several knives Bilbo could spot were not something he had expected to find. Still, Bilbo knew exactly why they were there: a king taking a bath was always easier to assassinate than the one fully clothed and armed. Thorin needed to have weapons at hand at all times to defend himself, which was something Bilbo hated and was certain he would never get used to.

Trying not to look at the weapons, Bilbo opened the jar and grabbed a fistful of leaves, before closing the jar, twirling around and rushing out of the bathing corner.

When Bilbo came back to the living chamber, Thorin had already spread the writing stools on the table in front of him. Apparently the king had managed to get his quill, ink and parchments without Bilbo having to hold any closet doors open for him.

"Here," Bilbo said, handing half of the leaves to Thorin.

"Thank you," Thorin muttered, taking the offered leaves, as Bilbo sat down next to him.

They ate their leaves silently, both of them very careful to cleanse every part of their mouth. Thorin wasn't looking at Bilbo, but Bilbo still had a strong feeling that he was the centre of Thorin's full attention.

Once their mouths were clean enough, Thorin cleared his throat.

"'We could-" he said, sounding a bit lost, "we could... '_Hobbits_'. I haven't written that word before. I assume that there are two b's in 'hobbits' – just like in Bilbo – are there not?"

"Yes, there are," Bilbo confirmed, sighing to himself – apparently writing a book would be a lot more challenging to Thorin than Bilbo had known to expect beforehand. "But don't worry about the misspellings. I don't really mind any mistakes, but if you do, we can always correct them afterwards."

Thorin gave a curt nod, before he hastened to open the ink bottle and took a hold of his quill, placing one of the parchments in front of him.

Bilbo sighed to himself again. He should have known that Thorin meant "immediately" when he said "immediately". In any case, it seemed like they weren't going to start kissing quite yet, so Bilbo stood up and went to add more wood in the fireplace to have something to do.

The wood didn't caught fire immediately and Bilbo had to place some tree bark onto the hot embers and blow on them, before finally the flames came alive again. He felt Thorin's eyes on his back the entire time, a sensation just as welcomed as it was exciting, but when he glanced behind his back at the king, Thorin was already studying the empty parchment once more, fiddling with his quill.

Eventually, the atmosphere in the chamber became more relaxed and less awkward, as Thorin and Bilbo found their easy, familiar way of keeping each other company. Now that Bilbo knew that his touch wouldn't be rejected or frowned upon, he went to stand behind his friend's back and brushed the dark hair out of his way, before beginning to massage the wide shoulders. When Thorin leant to his touch and let out content grunts, Bilbo let his hesitant strokes to become bolder.

For a long, long while, neither one of them broke the comfortable, companionable silence that filled the air between them, and Bilbo enjoyed stroking the wide shoulders and muscular arms while listening to the cracking of the fire.

Eventually, Thorin broke the silence by letting out a frustrated huff.

"I have to send Ori to the Shire," he said. "I would go myself, but I cannot leave Erebor. I simply don't have enough information to write a book about hobbits. Ori will have to find out everything there is to know about hobbits and then come to tell me about his findings, so that I can write it all down."

"You _could_ send Ori to the Shire," Bilbo agreed slowly, "or you could just use someone who knows a lot about hobbits as your source. Someone who lives in Erebor and has curly hair and hairy legs and is, in fact, a hobbit. Someone who's currently standing right behind you."

"Yes, you, Bilbo," Thorin said with an approving hum. "That would, in fact, be a more convenient and pleasant solution."

"It would, indeed," Bilbo smiled, "as we would get to spend time together. But why don't you start by writing down everything you already know about hobbits. Once you've done that, we can work the rest of it together."

"That sounds agreeable. I shall do just that."

Thorin dipped his quill into the dark brown ink and began to write with purpose. Soon the scribbling noises filled the chamber and Bilbo closed his eyes, happier and more content than he had been in a long while.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed when Thorin suddenly let out a sharp cough. Bilbo opened his eyes with a start and saw that the king was looking up at him with his head tilted back, en expectant look on his face.

"Well," Thorin said a tad bit impatiently, raising his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. "Are you going to read the first parchment or not?"

"You've written a full parchment already?"

"Yes," Thorin said, holding his head up again, as he looked down at his writing. "Almost a quarter of one, at least."

With a thoughtful frown, Bilbo leaned over Thorin's shoulder. The quill was dribbling ink onto the parchment and Bilbo reached out quickly to take a hold of Thorin's hand to move the quill away from the parchment. Once the dribbling quill was removed, Bilbo could see that Thorin had, fortunately, used the common language instead of Khuzdul, so that Bilbo could understand the words.

Thorin's handwriting was neat enough, although it also had a sharp edge to it, as if Thorin and the quill were having a fierce fight over the control of the letters. Bilbo smiled at the sight and twined his arms around Thorin's neck, putting most of his weight on Thorin's back, as he leaned over the king. It was a bit uncomfortable, as the back of the chair kept the two of them apart and Thorin's hair kept getting in Bilbo's face, but their closeness was very exciting in any case – it was the first time Bilbo dared to be this bold, touching and clinging and pressing them together, and he enjoyed all of it, very much so, even more than he could have believed beforehand. Thorin seemed to enjoy their closeness as well, judging from the way he raised a hand to stroke the gentle arms that Bilbo had twined around his neck.

"'_Hobbits_'," Bilbo read out loud, giving Thorin's cheek a quick, unexpected peck, "'_or halflings, as they are more affectionately called, are stout creatures who like to eat a lot, up to __seven meals a day__. Strangely, they prefer open sunlight to the safety and familiarity of stone. Although some hobbits (at least one) can truly be fascinating creatures, most of them are not. There are not many books written about hobbits, very likely because those who encounter hobbits will either forget them or grow to care for them. In both cases the idea to write about hobbits is usually soon abandoned – those who care for hobbits wish to protect them by keeping their existence a secret, while those (__elvish fools__) who dare to forget __hobbits certainly DO NOT DESERVE to describe them or their ways in any way, by written word or by word of mouth._'"

Thorin's writing was actually pretty good, Bilbo decided, pleasantly surprised.

"I will, of course, burn this book once I have written it," Thorin said in a gruff voice when Bilbo stopped reading. "I do not wish to draw attention to your people, Bilbo. The Shire has no defence capability to speak of and if the word spread about the fact that I, the King Under the Mountain, was suddenly showing enough interest in halflings to write a book about them, then others – and not all of them kind or honourable – would also become curious, thinking there must be gold or other riches in the Shire for me to show interest, even if I claimed otherwise. I have already begun to look for books about hobbits – very subtly, of course – so that I can make sure that they will all be destroyed. This book is just for you and I and for our mutual friends, and once we all have read it, it shall be burnt."

Bilbo hadn't ever before thought that books about hobbits could well be a threat to his people, but now that he did, a gasp escaped his lips. If evil creatures found out about defenceless hobbits, horrible things could happen to the Shire! Even though destroying Thorin's book would be a real pity, Bilbo could understand the reasoning behind it and he loved Thorin for wanting to protect the Shire and the hobbits. Bilbo probably would have voiced his thoughts hadn't one of the paragraphs on the parchment suddenly drawn his attention to it.

"'..._pumpkins, which is why hobbits revel in any chance to-_' TO ANNOY OTHERS?" he read the outrageous claim. "_In any case, one should be careful not to annoy them, because they can be very loud, and one __should not underestimate__ the power of their lu-_' THORIN OAKENSHIELD!"

Thorin winced and put a hand on his ear.

"I don't like it when you yell at me," he muttered sulkily, "and I strongly detest it when you yell right in my ear. It is almost like being hit with something sharp."

"We hobbits are not annoying!" Bilbo insisted, glaring at the part of Thorin's cheek he had just pecked. "It's one thing for you to say it to me and completely another to write it – to _immortalize_ it – in a book for everyone to read!"

"I already told you that this book is not for 'everyone to read'," Thorin snapped, lowering his quill down onto the table. "This is just for a select few who must read the words in order to witness that my Challenge has been completed. What I write in this book is the truth as seen by me. You are not me, Bilbo, so you cannot change the content of this book – you can only offer me information of which I will then make my own interpretations. If, according to me, hobbits are annoying, then – by Mahal – I _will_ write that hobbits are annoying."

"Fine," Bilbo scoffed, pushing himself into an upright position and away from Thorin. "If you'll write such a thing about us hobbits, I will make sure that you will truly know what 'annoyance' means. I will become so annoying that you will be sorry for writing such a thing!"

Thorin put a cap on the ink bottle, before standing up and turning to face Bilbo.

"As your suitor, I must advice against it," he said with audible irritation. "If you try my patience, halfling, I will have to give in to my urges and give your behind a few hard smacks to teach you not to irritate me."

"That sounds rather vulgar, my good sir," Bilbo said as sophisticatedly as he could, because accentuated sophistication was always a guaranteed way to annoy Thorin – sure enough, Thorin's eyes flashed and Bilbo could hear a deep growling coming from his friend's chest.

"You," Thorin huffed, the expression on his face one of pure irritation, "you better not start-"

"Start what, Master Oakenshield?" Bilbo asked and gave Thorin his most sophisticated bow, drawing back his right leg, his left hand pressed across his abdomen while holding his right one out from his body. "I am merely being as annoying as I can be, as is expected from a hobbit."

Thorin moved suddenly forward, his powerful presence enough to make Bilbo's feet take several steps backwards, before the hobbit had even realized he was moving. Thorin's eyes were growing darker by each step taken and Bilbo was so captivated by the sight that he was taken completely off guard when his back suddenly hit the hard stone and he realized that Thorin had backed him against the wall. Thorin wasn't touching him, but he didn't need to, as the dark eyes kept Bilbo nailed to the spot as it was.

"You," Thorin said, his voice full with frustration, as he loomed over Bilbo, "you are _insufferable_, Bilbo Baggins. I'm _writing a book to court you_, for you, to make you officially mine and me yours, and even so you keep on pushing me and trying my patience _on purpose_. When I said that hobbits are annoying, I truly meant it, as you are the most annoying creature that I have ever met."

They were both breathing heavily and Bilbo wasn't really hearing the words Thorin was saying, too preoccupied as he was at grasping the arousing fact that _Thorin had just backed him against a wall_ and if Bilbo so wished, he could move just an inch forward and actually Touch Thorin.

Suddenly all of Bilbo's thoughts were focused on how beautiful Thorin truly was – with his dark hair falling down his back – with his beard – with his lovely nose – with his red lips – with his eyes blazing... Those eyes that had seen more battles and pain and hardship than Bilbo could ever even imagine... Those same eyes that were now so intently focused on Bilbo's own ones that Bilbo wouldn't have been too surprised if his very soul had abandoned his body to join them...

Thorin's dark blue ceremonial robes were soft to touch, Bilbo knew for a fact, and touch he wanted. Oh, how he wanted.

And touch he did.

Bilbo placed his trembling hand on Thorin's heaving chest, right above the beating heart, before he pressed their bodies fully together with one bold, daring step. Feeling Bilbo unexpectedly pressed against his front, Thorin fell silent mid-word, whatever he had been ranting about interrupted by Bilbo's boldness.

Blinking, Thorin closed his mouth and looked down at Bilbo with surprise, with bewilderment, before frowning in confusion as if only just realizing that there was something poking him in the inner thigh. He took a gentle hold of Bilbo's arms and pushed the hobbit a few inches back, before looking down between the two of them.

Bilbo's hardness was visible through his brown pants and Thorin stared at it for quite some time.

Gradually, Bilbo could feel Thorin growing hard against the soft flesh of his stomach and the sensation made him gasp and moan and trying to press closer. Hearing the noises, Thorin grunted and tightened his grasp on Bilbo's arms, still staring at the evidence of mutual want and desire between them. When Thorin finally looked up and met Bilbo's gaze, his eyes were pitch-black.

"Your desire is evident," Thorin stated, studying Bilbo's face closely. "Tell me, Bilbo, who are you thinking about?"

With a coy smile, Bilbo twined his arms around the king.

"Well..." he said softly, "I'm thinking about someone who looks a lot like you, actually."

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin's face fell and he let go off Bilbo as if burnt.

"Kili," Thorin said tonelessly, loosening Bilbo's grip around him just a tad bit forcefully. "I wasn't aware- Kili has never even hinted-"

"_Not Kili!_" Bilbo snapped, grasping Thorin's robes even tighter. "_No_, Thorin, stop! I have _never_ thought of Kili like that! I was thinking about _you_, Thorin, you insufferable... _you_! By 'someone who looks like you' I meant _you_, not Kili. Oh, Thorin, you are simply utterly impossible!"

"As are you," Thorin scoffed. "Why do you have to make your words so ambiguous? This has been a day of many unpleasant surprises, so it certainly can be no wonder that I was expecting the worst."

* * *

**Hmm, Bilbo, have you forgotten all about your magic ring? Surely not?**

**Oh, this chapter was such a delight to write. XD I hope you enjoyed reading it!**


	17. Chapter 17

**The last chapter. This one was a bit awkward to write, because my little sister (still too young to even understand the difference between "a" and "the" (those don't exist in Finnish)) kept appearing from somewhere and demanding to know what I was writing and why I was writing "a stupid story in English" when I could be painting Easter Eggs with her. (I did, eventually, paint some eggs with her, so don't worry.) Hopefully you'll enjoy this fic more than my little sister and hopefully it's less awkward for you to read than it was for me to write. :D**

**Thank you for everyone who has given me feedback while writing this story. The reviews have been lovely and cheered me up a lot. So thank you! And a special thank you to 80icrazy80 who has supported me so much when writing this story! :)**

**WARNINGS: SEX**

* * *

"This truly has been a day of surprises," Bilbo agreed, plucking Thorin's robes a bit, trying to pull the tense king closer, "but surely not _all_ of the surprises have been unpleasant, have they. I don't think they have. There have been many pleasant surprises as well, have there not."

Thorin's hands felt large and calloused when they enfolded Bilbo's much slender wrists. With a deep sigh, Thorin tugged the insistently plucking hands off his robes.

"First," Thorin said, studying the soft hands in his hold, "first, Bilbo, Fili barged into my chambers _uninvited _and_ unwelcome_, interrupting all of my Acts of Repentance in order to insist that I should go to talk with you – which I eventually did, trusting him and his assessment of the situation. Then, once I had made a complete fool of myself by loitering in front of the royal healing chamber for almost half an hour, wondering what I could possibly say to you, I finally gathered myself and knocked on the door – only to cause you further injury, only to make you bleed."

Thorin's gaze flickered briefly to Bilbo's – thankfully unbruised – nose, before it was determinedly focused on Bilbo's hands once more. Thorin lifted the hands up to his face and pressed his lips against the knuckles of Bilbo's left hand. He did it slowly, gently, almost hesitantly, as if he was afraid that Bilbo would get frightened of his touch and pull away.

When Bilbo didn't flinch but leaned into the touch, Thorin seemed to gain more confidence and let his lips graze the knuckles of Bilbo's right hand as well.

"After that," the king continued, his voice but a murmur, "I found out that my love for you had gone unnoticed, that all of my declarations of dedication had been for nothing. To put it mildly, halfling, I fail to see how any of the surprises of today have been anything other than unpleasant."

Bilbo sighed and gave his friend a sympathetic smile, one that went unreturned.

"It does seem like I was the one who had all the pleasant surprises," he had to agree, "with not getting banished and with being courted by you and with... with everything. But perhaps, if you would allow it, I could give you at least one pleasant surprise to make today's other surprises less unpleasant?"

With a wary look upon his face, Thorin tightened his hold around Bilbo's wrists.

"A... surprise," Thorin repeated slowly, managing to sound both cautious and reluctantly curious at once. "A _pleasant_ surprise, you say. Bilbo, if you are thinking that it would be a 'pleasant' surprise to turn invisible and to disappear again, I must ask you to reconsider: never disappear again. Once was distressing enough."

"I wasn't planning on disappearing again," Bilbo promised – before he suddenly froze, realizing what had been just said: Disappearing. Turning invisible.

The _Ring_!

Bilbo felt his breath catching in his throat when the Ring suddenly filled his thoughts. How could he have forgotten about his magic ring? Where was it? Did Thorin still have it? Had Thorin found out about its power?

Thorin didn't seem to notice Bilbo's sudden freezing, as all the tension drained from his shoulders upon hearing Bilbo's promise not to disappear again. Thorin let out a relieved breath and gave Bilbo a brilliant, affectionate smile, running his thumbs up and down the bottoms of Bilbo's palms.

"Speaking of disappearing," Bilbo said slowly, lifting his gaze from the stroking thumbs up to Thorin's gentle eyes, "do you happen to know where my Ring has disappeared to? Fili said you found it in the Guarding Level and put it into your pocket."

A dark expression passed Thorin's face and Bilbo was unexpectedly pulled against the king's chest into a warm and protective embrace.

"Yes, I found that _thing_," Thorin said, his voice full of disdain, while Bilbo couldn't help but pet the large chest absent-mindedly, pleasantly surprised to be suddenly hold so firmly against it. "Surely you don't want it back, Bilbo? In fact, you cannot have it back, as I destroyed it this morning."

"Wh- Thorin, you _what_?" Bilbo sputtered, his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface of one of Thorin's silver chains. "You _destroyed_ my Ring? Why in Aulë would you do such a thing?"

Thorin shifted on his feet awkwardly, but his arms were still secure around Bilbo.

"I had my reasons," Thorin coughed. "I'm perfectly aware that this may sound slightly... senseless and even quite a bit sentimental, but whenever my gaze fell upon that cursed ring, my mind was filled with horrible voices, with your harrowing cries and Fili and Kili's voices _pleading_ me to keep their kingdom safe, to secure their future, 'no matter the price'. Then I heard... Then I heard other things as well, things I certainly had no desire to listen to. I know it was your ring and I hope that it didn't have too much sentimental value to you, but I knew – I know – for a fact that I didn't and don't want that _thing_ anywhere near my kingdom or my people. It is better that it is now destroyed."

Bilbo didn't know whether he should have frowned or raised his eyebrows at Thorin's words. It was all very typical Thorin: now that Gur and the crickets were dead and, thus, unable to face Thorin's wrath, Thorin needed something else that he could take his anger out on. After his own bedchamber had been destroyed, the golden ring Gur had been fascinated by was probably the most suitable target for Thorin's hate and anger. For Thorin, the ring had been, after all, just an ordinary ring, while Bilbo was aware of its real power, of its rare ability to turn its wearer invisible.

Bilbo was also very much aware of the fact that the Ring couldn't actually talk. If Thorin had truly believed that it could, he must have been very anxious, worn and under a horrible amount of pressure to think that his fears were being voiced by a cursed ring.

Oh, poor, poor Thorin.

"How, exactly," Bilbo said, keeping his voice as calm and soothing as he could, "did you destroy my Ring?"

"I threw it in the fireplace," Thorin grumbled and Bilbo couldn't help but stretch his neck to look at the fireplace, at the grey ashes and the dying embers. "I threw it in the orange flames. It must have melted by now, but once the fireplace is cold enough, I will make personally certain that that is, indeed, the case. I will rest more easily when I have seen the melted gold myself. That ring... it wasn't a particularly good ring, Bilbo, believe me. It is certainly better that you don't have it anymore."

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully and pressed his ear against Thorin's chest. While listening to the steady heartbeats, he formed a quick plan in his mind.

If the magic ring truly had melted in the fireplace, Bilbo would take the melted gold and ask Gloin – or Dori, perhaps – to make him a new one with it. Perhaps the gold would still have certain magical abilities, even in its new form. On the other hand, if the Ring had somehow managed to survive the heat of the flames, all Bilbo would have to do was to find the Ring before Thorin did. If the Ring hadn't melted, Bilbo would take it and hide it in his pocket, before finding another golden ring in its place and melting it for Thorin to find. That way, Bilbo would have his Ring and Thorin would have a melted ring and they would both be happy.

Bilbo loathed to deceive Thorin like that, but sometimes Thorin could be so unreasonable: really, destroying such a precious ring because Thorin was angry, because he felt that he needed to avenge Bilbo – by Mahal, that would have been such a waste of a fine magic ring!

Bilbo would explain everything to Thorin, one day, when the king was in a more reasonable state.

Thorin cleared his throat, interrupting Bilbo's plannings.

"I shall, of course, make you another ring to wear," Thorin promised. "One with more pleasant memories attached to it. I hope it will be to your liking. Consider it your betrothal ring, a token of my love and affections."

"I will look forward to wearing it," Bilbo said, feeling delighted at the prospect. "But in the meantime, my love, I would really like to give you a _pleasant_ surprise, if only you would allow me to do that."

"Certainly," Thorin said, sounding relieved – probably because Bilbo hadn't yelled at him for destroying the Ring, "as long as you don't disappear while giving me this 'pleasant surprise'. Although, we do need to talk about the gift of the hobbits eventually, Bilbo. I need to know under what circumstances you can turn invisible and why it sometimes appears that you are unable to do so. Information like that might turn out to be crucial for us in the future and I do need to write it in my book."

"Oh, um," Bilbo said, flushing and ashamed of himself, ashamed of not having told Thorin the truth about the 'gift of the hobbits' – apparently, Thorin hadn't found out about the Ring's ability, if he still thought that hobbits could turn invisible at will. "Er, Thorin, that will be quite a long conversation. Could we, perhaps, have that particular conversation some time... later?"

'Later' meaning the time after Bilbo had found out whether 'the gift of the hobbits' had melted in the fireplace and whether Thorin was still inclined to destroy the said gift if it turned out that it hadn't melted.

Frowning, Thorin hugged Bilbo closer to his chest.

"As you wish," Thorin murmured, his breath hot and wet against Bilbo's forehead. "We can talk about the gift of the hobbits later. I am planning on spending the rest of my life with you by my side, after all, so there should be plenty of time for us to have conversations – as well as mutual silence, of course. I do enjoy our mutual silences, as you well know."

Bilbo did know and he really, really liked their mutual enjoyment of their peaceful, companionably silent moments. If Thorin didn't have something to say, he prefered to stay silent, which was something Bilbo had gradually grown to love about him (although it could get quite frustrating too, at times).

But really, oh, how he loved Thorin!

"That I really do!" Bilbo blurted.

"Love you, Thorin, that is," he added and Thorin's frown smoothed down, turning into a look of silent, barely contained joy.

"My headstrong halfling," Thorin said affectionately, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "My affections for you are deep and most sincere as well: If you so asked, I would slaughter you so many orcs and goblins that you could make a mountain of their skulls. If you asked, I would mine rubies and sapphires and diamonds, all for you, and place them into the eye orbits of the skulls in your skull mountain for you to admire."

Bilbo winced.

"That's not necessary," he said, grimacing. "Really, Thorin. I don't want a mountain made of skulls. But thank you, anyway. As you have, once again, tried to surprise me pleasantly, I do think that it is now my turn to give you a pleasant surprise."

"A pleasant surprise would be greatly appreciated, I believe," Thorin agreed. "Feel free to make my day better by surprising me – pleasantly – any time you wish."

"I think I will," Bilbo mused, "but first, I just have to think of a way to surprise you, as I haven't exactly planned anything beforehand. Hmm, let me see..."

Frowning, Bilbo considered all the things he could do to surprise Thorin in a pleasant way. In the end, there really was only one surprise that Bilbo considered pleasant enough for Thorin, under the circumstances – a kiss.

Bilbo wriggled in Thorin's arms, until he was facing the king and could press their bodies properly together. Thorin's eyes widened momentarily when Bilbo twined his arms around Thorin's neck, sinking his hands into the thick black hair, boldly and eagerly.

When Bilbo stood up on his tiptoes and pulled Thorin's head down, the look in Thorin's eyes suddenly changed: where there had been pure joy before was now hunger, where there had been a playful twinkle was now dark pools of want and need and desperate yearning. Thorin's chest was heaving, but his breaths were silent. His hold around Bilbo wasn't tight at all, if anything it felt even looser than before, as if the king was afraid that he would scare Bilbo away by holding too tightly.

Bilbo smiled a small encouraging smile, as he touched Thorin's nose with his own, giving Thorin a little nuzzle.

"Have you already guessed what your surprise is going to be?" he asked softly, his breath grazing Thorin's lips.

"I... am certainly curious to know what will happen next," came Thorin's answer, his voice such a deep baritone Bilbo could feel it rumbling pleasantly against his own form, echoing in the sound boxes his body formed. The sensation made Bilbo shiver and he closed his eyes.

"That we are both, I suppose," he then decided, opening his eyes and looking up at the dark eyes, eyes that were staring down at him with intent, with raw lust and arousal – they were so deep and _full_. There were awe and care in Thorin's gaze, as well, and perhaps a bit of his usual worrying (Thorin always worried). Love there was, most certainly, and Bilbo had to wonder why he hadn't noted it before. Thorin had given him that same loving look so many times in the past, after all...

"I haven't planned this," Bilbo whispered, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He felt dizzy and hold onto Thorin more tightly – he was most certainly _not going to faint_ in a moment like this! "I'm going to give you your pleasant surprise, Thorin, but after that, we will have to work together, if we want something... more. We will have to use words to tell each other what we like and don't like. And we will stop immediately with whatever we're doing, if one of us so wishes."

Thorin, still staring at him with intent, grunted and nodded firmly. Coming from Thorin, that was as good as a pledge.

Licking his lips, Bilbo gave Thorin a determined nod of his own, and so they were ready for their newest adventure.

Slowly, Bilbo leant forward and pressed his lips against Thorin's.

The kiss was gentle and considerate, pondering even, but it didn't last for long, barely for more than three eager heartbeats.

Then Bilbo was already leaning back and meeting Thorin's eyes.

"Were you pleasantly surprised?"

"Can we do that again?" Thorin asked gruffly in a way of answering, his gaze flickering from Bilbo's lips back to his eyes. "I understand, if you don't want to, but I would certainly like to have... more."

"I would like to have... more, too," Bilbo said, swallowing.

He leaned forward again and gave Thorin's lips a few slow, soft kisses. Thorin returned in kind, but after a while, after they had both come to the conclusion that the other wasn't likely to bolt away any time soon, the gentle, light kisses became more daring, more curious, bolder and bolder. Their moment was full of mutual trust, both of them exploring and letting the other to explore.

Thorin tasted of cleansing leaves and something that made him _Thorin_ and Bilbo reveled in the lovely taste.

Before long, Bilbo's stomach was full of sparks, while all his thoughts and worries abandoned his mind, flying out of his ears one after another like young birds leaving their nest for the very first time. Suddenly, there wasn't anything in Bilbo's world but Thorin and him – Thorin's soft lips tasting his own – Thorin's large hands rubbing his lower back, pulling him closer – Thorin's beard not-quite-but-almost-scratching-his-skin...

Groanign, Thorin took Bilbo's lower lip between his own and sucked gently, yet determinedly. Bilbo gasped and moved his hands from Thorin's neck to the lovely face to stroke the beard and the cheekbones, to hold Thorin in place to deepen their kiss. He opened his mouth properly and licked Thorin's lips, let his tongue found its way into Thorin's mouth and explore the hot wetness with curiosity.

Thorin grunted and pushed Bilbo against the stone wall. Bilbo let out a breathless chuckle and opened his eyes to look at Thorin, not really even wondering when he had closed his eyes.

Thorin was flushed and breathing heavily, looking at Bilbo with such pure awe that Bilbo felt his gaze softening, his heart melting. He ran his forefinger down the side of Thorin's face and Thorin closed his eyes, exhaling shakily and leaning into the touch.

"Will you be mine, Bilbo?" Thorin asked in a hoarse voice. "Will you be mine for forever?"

"For as long as forever is," Bilbo promised. "Yes, Thorin, I am yours and you are mine, as much as a king can truly be anyone's."

"I am yours," Thorin assured and opened his eyes, meeting Bilbo's gaze with sharp determination. "For _forever_."

Bilbo couldn't find anything to say to that, and so he responded by licking Thorin's lips, happy that he was now allowed to do that. Thorin hummed and pulled him into a proper, quite passionate kiss.

Bilbo inhaled the scent of Thorin's skin, of his sweat, of his hair. He listened to their breathing, their quiet gasps and slightly louder groans, as they kissed and rubbed against each other. They were both hard – their private secret, the moment that was just for the two of them, never to be shared with anyone else.

Bilbo's fingers found their way to the fastening of Thorin's robes and he unfastened the silver clasps, pushing the heavy robes off the broad shoulders. The robes fell down onto the floor with a rustling noise and with a few clear clinks, as the silver chains came into contact with the hard stone surface.

Thorin halted with his grinding and kissing in order to give Bilbo a frown. He didn't look amused at all.

"You are _undressing_ me, halfling," he noted, kicking the fallen robes out of his way and behind his back with one swift, graceful movement. "Are you aware of what that might lead to?"

Bilbo offered Thorin his most wicked grin, untucking Thorin's shirt, before the king had even managed to finish his question.

"Guess twice," Bilbo said softly, giving Thorin a kiss.

"Of course I know, you silly thing," he then sighed against the unmoving lips, reaching out to smooth down the concerned frown on Thorin's forehead. "There are many kinds of books in the Library of Thousands of Books, as you might know, and I have studied these kinds of affectionate relations very carefully for the past few months, just in case you would show any interest in making love with me. You need to trust me, Thorin, just as I trust you. I know what I am doing and I am perfectly aware of what I want."

"And what is it that you want?" Thorin asked gruffly, although his fingers were gentle, as they curled in the loose, white fabric of Bilbo's shirt.

"Judging from the way your body is reacting, probably the same thing as you," Bilbo said. "I would like it, if we could keep on kissing like we have done so far. But I would also like it, if we could touch each other and if we could wear less clothes, or no clothes at all. I would like to watch you and touch you in a state of undress, Thorin. I would also like to... like to know what it would feel like to have you inside me."

Thorin was completely still and quiet for quite a long while after Bilbo's admissions.

"You are very daring today, Bilbo Baggins," he finally said in a thoughtful voice. "I would like to grant some of your wishes, but I don't think I should penetrate you today, as you have only just found out about my feelings for you. We do have time, after all, my love. We have time for long conversations and for shared silences and for mutual gratification. We don't have to do everything at once. We don't need to hurry. We can take our time."

"I know that," Bilbo assured. "I really do, but I would still like to have you in me today, if you are willing. I may have only just found out that my feelings for you are returned, but that doesn't mean that I haven't imagined the two of us together before. I have thought about us together _so many times_ and I would finally like to have in reality what I have had in my mind for such a long time."

Thorin tightened his hold on Bilbo's shirt.

"We'll..." he coughed. "We shall see what happens. We will kiss and touch and get undressed. We shall plan as we go."

"Oh, no," Bilbo said, shaking his head and causing Thorin's frown to deepen. "We shall _explore_ as we go. I don't think we will need any planning with this – apart from some oil, that is. Some oil would be very much appreciated, considering I will have to be stretched."

Thorin groaned and pushed Bilbo more firmly against the wall, pressing his face on Bilbo's angle of the neck. His desire was sharp against Bilbo's side and Bilbo knew that Thorin could feel the answering hardness on his lower stomach.

"Very well then," Thorin said, his wet lips causing Bilbo to shiver, as they grazed Bilbo's skin with every uttered syllable. "We shall... _explore_ together, Bilbo. But first, we will need to bathe – I'm afraid I didn't have time for that earlier, otherwise occupied as I was."

Not half an hour later, they found each other laying on Bilbo's bed on their backs, both of them fresh from a warm bath. Bilbo was wearing nothing but his bathing robes, while Thorin hadn't bothered with modesty or towels at all. They had washed themselves thoroughly to make the exploring more pleasant for each other, and all the necessary planning – a bottle full of oil on the nightstand – was done.

Thorin hadn't washed his already reasonably clean hair, as it always took the locks over a day to dry out (and Bilbo wasn't fond of a giant, wet bunch of hair in a bed with him), but his skin was glowing pleasantly. His face was relaxed, as were the muscles of his body. Bilbo let himself look at Thorin, admire the strong built, the well-formed muscles, the dark hair on his belly and chest and thighs that somehow managed to make Thorin look all the more stronger. Thorin looked wild, untamed, but also safe and cozy and familiar, laying by Bilbo's side contentedly, as if he had always belonged just there.

Bilbo loved Thorin so much.

Thorin was stroking himself lazily, his eyes travelling over Bilbo's still covered body. The hunger was still there in the sharp gaze, but Bilbo wasn't being pressured. It was obvious that Thorin was waiting for Bilbo to make his move, before anything else would happen; they both knew that if Bilbo so wished, he could send Thorin away and Thorin would simply rise from the bed and leave.

Bilbo wasn't going to send Thorin away. No, not at all, even though there was one problem: Thorin was so handsome and breathtaking, while Bilbo wouldn't describe himself with either one of those words. What if Thorin didn't like his form, his very undwarvish body? Thorin had seen him naked before, of course. When travelling in the wild together for such a long period of time it was difficult not to, at some point, but this was the first time Bilbo's body would come under such close scrutiny.

Bilbo turned his head to his side to meet Thorin's gaze.

"What if you don't like the way I look?" he asked.

Thorin let go off himself and caused the bed to creak loudly by rolling to his side to loom over Bilbo.

"But I have already seen the way you look, my halfling," Thorin said with obvious confusion. "I assure you that my eyes are in quite a good condition. Surely you haven't been under the impression that I am blind?"

"Of course not," Bilbo huffed, crossing his arms across his chest, looking up at the burgundy ceiling. "I meant, what if you don't like the way I look _undressed_?"

It took Thorin some time to answer, and when he finally did, he sounded truly bemused.

"I don't understand," Thorin admitted, furrowing his brow. "Have I not made it clear that I find you desirable? I have seen you undressed before – several times when we were still travelling – and I did enjoy the lovely sight, every glimpse of it. And the memory of it, as well, quite a few times actually, alone, in private... Although, a coarse being like me should not be given the privilege to touch someone like you, Bilbo, so if anyone should be worried that they might get rejected, it would be me."

"You won't get rejected by me," Bilbo said firmly, looking at the ceiling still, but aiming his words at Thorin. "And you have every right to touch me, I enjoy it when you do."

Bilbo felt Thorin taking a hold of his arms and uncrossing them slowly, placing them carefully by his sides. When Thorin slid a finger under the belt of Bilbo's bathrobe and began to untie the already loose knot, Bilbo met the king's searching gaze with a small, shaky smile.

"We'll only go as far as you are comfortable with," Thorin gave his solemn word. "Just tell me so and I will stop."

"I do know what to do, if I'm not comfortable with what you're doing," Bilbo said drily. "As I said, we need to trust each other for this to work. We'll tell each other what we like and what we don't like and when to stop."

Inclining his head in an affirmative, Thorin opened Bilbo's bathrobe.

Then he just stared.

Bilbo swallowed hard, feeling Thorin's gaze on his skin tracing the fair hair on his chest down his belly and groin, all the way down to his legs and to his feet.

"Beautiful," Thorin whispered in awe, sitting up and moving the bathrobe with his hands to take a closer look at Bilbo's body. "So lovely..."

"You could, um," Bilbo coughed, wriggling a bit, feeling nervous but also quite excited, "you are allowed to touch, if you'd like."

He had barely finished his sentence when Thorin was already leaning down to kiss him. They kissed for a while, their touches gentle and curious, until Bilbo found his courage again and began to ask for more. Thorin complied, placing his hands onto Bilbo's thighs and kneading them with confidence that spoke of decades of experience.

"You might not be my first, halfling," Thorin confirmed Bilbo's assumption, "but you shall be my last; I will complete the courting to make you officially mine and I shall never embrace another now that I have you."

"I will never embrace another either," Bilbo promised. "Not that I have. Before. That is."

Thorin looked at him sharply, surprise evident on his face.

"You have never slept with anyone before?"

Bilbo raised his eyebrows at Thorin, because "have you slept with anyone?" was simply such an odd question to ask in their current circumstances. Every hobbit spent their first years sleeping between their parents, or siblings, if they had any. Hobbits, in general, enjoyed sleeping close to each other, so of course Bilbo had slept with someone in his lifetime, with many someones, in fact. Why would Thorin want to ask something like that in a moment like this? Was this another dwarven thing Bilbo wasn't aware of? If it was, Bilbo wasn't certain that he liked it at all.

"You know I have," Bilbo answered slowly, looking at Thorin warily. "Or at least I thought you knew. Didn't you see me sleeping with Bofur, when-"

"_Bofur?_" Thorin's voice unusually high. "_With_ _Bofur_? With _B_- No, Bilbo, I certainly did not know that you have had _relations_ with _Bofur_! I thought that I was the only dwarf that- When did you and... _Bofur_- For how long-"

It took Bilbo and Thorin a lot of miscommunication, many misunderstandings, some yelling (from Bilbo) and twenty three swear words (from Thorin), but eventually they managed to figure out that 'sleeping with someone' simply meant completely different things to them and that Bilbo had never had "relations" with Bofur. After they had managed to figure all that out, they were both relieved but also quite a bit annoyed with each other.

Annoyance, however, Bilbo found out, could be _very arousing_ when naked in bed with an irritated Thorin, as Thorin turned his irritation into something else completely. (Well, almost completely. There was still a lot of irritation there, Bilbo could tell.)

"Infuriating hobbit," Thorin grumbled, grinding them together, thrusting against Bilbo with angry, frantic movements. "Impossible halfling!"

"No, you're the one who's impossible!" Bilbo snapped, wrapping his legs around Thorin's thighs to pull the king closer – it felt so, _oh_, so _good_. "And _you_ are infuriating! You are so infuriating that you are like an onion covered in chee- _ungh_."

Thorin stole the rest of the sentence by claiming Bilbo's lips. For the next few moments, they fought over the control of Bilbo's mouth, both determined to win. Thorin pushed Bilbo down against the mattress, lifting his hand to hold Bilbo's slipping left thigh more firmly against him, while Bilbo growled into their kiss and did his best to show that his mouth was _his_, even though Thorin was welcome to visit.

It became obvious rather soon that Thorin was winning the battle with his stronger tongue, which meant that Bilbo had to use his brain, which he then naturally did: he slipped his hand between the two of them and wrapped his fingers around Thorin, giving the hard organ a gentle squeeze.

As Bilbo had anticipated, Thorin gasped – and Bilbo managed to use the situation to his advantage and lick his way into Thorin's open mouth.

It took Thorin quite some time to collect himself, it seemed, as he had closed his eyes and was breathing heavily through his nose, his muscles completely still – completely still with the exception of the hot organ that Bilbo could feel pulsing and twitching under his touch.

Once he had his breathing under control again, Thorin opened his eyes and began to answer Bilbo's kisses, more calmly but just as thoroughly.

Eventually, they did have to broke apart for a breath. By then, they were both panting and very much aroused. Bilbo was already leaking, and so was Thorin, judging from the wetness Bilbo could feel against his stroking hand.

"I think," Bilbo panted, "I think it's... that it's time for the... oil."

Thorin didn't say anything, but pressed a series of kisses on Bilbo's neck and chest.

"Do you want me to... to prepare me myself," Bilbo continued, "or would you like to-"

"I would be _honoured_ to," Thorin interrupted. "I would be honoured to do to the stretching for you, Bilbo, if you truly are willing."

"I am willing, Thorin, if you are."

"I am."

"So am I."

A moment later, Bilbo laid on his stomach, his bottom thrusted high in the air with the help of some helpful pillows. Thorin was shuffling behind him and Bilbo listened closely how the oil bottle was bobbed open.

The hand placed on his left buttock wasn't entirely unexpected, but Bilbo swallowed anyway, twisting his neck to look at Thorin.

It appeared that Thorin felt Bilbo's gaze, as he glanced up briefly, before looking down at Bilbo's bottom again.

"I am terribly tempted to smack your behind," Thorin said, rubbing the cheek almost experimentally. "It would be most gratifying, I am certain..."

"You are not _smacking_ any part of me!" Bilbo forbid, scowling. "I'll yell at you, if you do."

"Yelling would hurt my ears."

"Smacking my bottom would hurt my bottom."

"I suppose it would," Thorin sighed, sounding regretful, and Bilbo – with a sharp "hmphd" – turned back to his pillow, resting his head on it.

Thorin didn't smack Bilbo's bottom, but he took his time preparing it. By the time Thorin managed to fit the third finger in, Bilbo was already _so close_ to coming that his words weren't making much sense anymore, not even to himself.

Thorin withdrew his fingers. He gave Bilbo's bottom a pat that was as questioning as a pat in the bottom simply could be. Once he had received a nod and a muffled "_yes_", he took his position behind Bilbo.

Thorin felt slick and hot and oh, so very gentle and careful, when he pushed in, and Bilbo couldn't have described the sensation, not even if he had been in his full mind – the way Thorin filled him – the way he was aware of places he had never before even thought about...

Thorin was kissing Bilbo's shoulders and Bilbo's back, running his hands soothingly along Bilbo's sides, putting there just the right amount of pressure.

"All right, love?" Thorin asked in a hoarse groan, after the initial pain Bilbo had felt had turned into something akin to pleasure.

"_Ngh-_ yes," Bilbo assured.

It didn't take too many thrusts from Thorin for Bilbo to come, but fortunately Thorin – _thrusthing, clutching at Bilbo's hips, shaking with need, swearing, groaning_ – wasn't too far behind, collapsing soon after on top of Bilbo in a relaxed heap of sweat, contentment and happiness.

Neither one thought it embarrassing that they hadn't lasted for too long – they could always embrace each other again, after all.

It would take Thorin closer to a decade to finish his _Hobbits: the People of Earth and Light_, as he would feel that it was always lacking and not good enough for his hobbit. Bilbo would assure that the book was _perfect_ and that two thousand pages were certainly more than enough, but Thorin would just shake his head in a quiet, affectionate manner, pull Bilbo into a kiss and whisper all the new things he had learnt about hobbits that day against Bilbo's lips, until Bilbo would end the king's ramblings by deepening the kiss and giving Thorin something else to think about.

Now, though, reveling in the memory of their first shared moment of intimacy, they knew none of that. They didn't know it yet, but in the years to come, they would smile when recalling how awkward they both had been and how they had feared that the other would bolt. Now, in Bilbo's bed, they knew little else but the words that Thorin whispered in Bilbo's ear and the way calloused fingers stroke soft curls that were still damp and pine-scented from bathing.

Neither one of them spared a thought for the Ring – the Ring that hadn't melted in the orange flames, for the One Ring couldn't be destroyed by ordinary fire. Bilbo would later find it among the cold ashes and, after some hesitation, slip it into his pocket – it was just a magic ring, after all, and if Bilbo kept it hidden, Thorin would never find out about it. And what Thorin didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him.

* * *

**So that's it then, the end. Thank you for reading! If you're not too busy, feel free to surprise me pleasantly by telling me what you thought about the chapter.**

**Happy Easter, everyone! I hope you get to eat lots and lots of chocolate. If you don't, here's a bunny bringing some virtual ones for you to enjoy =(:x) 000**


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